How We Were
by Reuben deFlash
Summary: Prequel to Like We Used To. A trip to Washington evokes memories and eventually, Andie asks the question: how did Blake Collins, uptight loner and king of the school, end up with Alexandra Hale, MSA's wild card in the first place?  R&R please.
1. New Beginnings

_A/N: I know at least one person will read this, but just to explain - this is the prequel to my story involving Director Collins and Alex, an OC of mine. It starts in the present but will go back to the past to revisit how they ended up together in the first place because, as you'll know if you read Like We Used To, it was something that surprised everybody._

_I would recommend reading that one first, because Alex Hale is established in that one. However, I suppose you can still follow this one._

_I should probably mention also that the first one (LWUT) was written ages ago, and needs updating badly, seeing as how all my page breaks disappeared and it's got typos galore. Enjoy!_

_RdF_

Chapter One – New Beginnings

Blake pushed open the door to the studio with a great force, carrying a bag and wearing his customary shirt. The entrance was enough to draw the attention of everyone waiting in the large room. The students were freshman year, and this was the first day of term; as their surprised faces turned towards him, he fought a smirk. He couldn't deny he enjoyed the terrified look first years had and certainly never tired of giving them a reason to be a little scared. He was hardly a bulldog, but he couldn't honestly say that he didn't abuse the position of Director from time to time.

"Good morning, freshman. Let's begin shall we?" he said clearly, putting his bag down and looking at them. No one had moved, though there had been some quiet murmurs of "that's Blake Collins...the dancer" amongst them. He continued to roll his sleeves up, unbuttoning the cuffs and folding the sleeves up to his elbow, frowning in concentration as he did so. In fact, he paid them little attention until he had sorted himself out, and when he had, he looked up to them sharply and surveyed the group expectantly.

"I trust you've all warmed up," he stated. They nodded timidly; even the guys were reluctant to retort. Blake Collins had such a presence – mostly likely because MSA was only in existence because of the Collins family – but any shred of self-assurance they had gained from getting a place vanished. "I'd like to see some individual work today. I watched all your auditions with great interest, and I was impressed." They all smiled at his words; a couple of girls relaxed and began to grin at the others.

"However," Blake continued sternly, with a slight smirk. "Your place here is determined by how hard you work from this point. Dancing is about improvement, and being the best you can be – finding new ways to express yourself and excelling above others." His speech made the smiles dwindle, as was the desired effect; he had no interest in giving them a false sense of security. They were there to work, and the sooner he laid that down the better.

"So, I'd like some individual improvisation to begin with, and maybe we can establish what we have to work with, and how can we make it even better." Blake glanced at the class list. "Alphabetical seems fitting. Dana Abbott?" he said smoothly, casting a searching looking out into the group. A timid, petite girl with her dark hair scraped back into a bun stepped forward, raised a hand and stood before the group ready for her solo. She gulped visibly as Blake went to switch the stereo on to a classical hip hop hybrid track, which he saw out of the corner of his eye, and he had to smile.

XXXXX

Alexandra Hale strolled down the corridor, frowning over a file as she read it leisurely, pushing her glasses up her nose thoughtfully. She paused as the bell rung out shrilly overhead, but she paid little attention to it. Students began to file out of classrooms around her; their chatter was low at first but grew deafening. Alex started to walk again, heading to the studio and nodding politely to the students that greeted her warmly. She was just beginning her first full year as co-director at MSA, and she was generally well liked by the student populace already, having worked with a lot of them during the benefit concert. In the directorship, it was well known that you went to Blake Collins with the technical issues, such as class clashes, and you went to Alex when you had an emotional problem like boyfriend trouble. Truthfully, their partnership had worked better than anyone could have anticipated, even the board, who had been the people behind it.

She came to the studio, shut her file and pushed the door open gently, only to be met with a group of freshman leaving. They were chattering excitedly, especially the girls, about being taught by _Blake Collins_, the dancing legend. When they noticed her, their eyes grew wide once again and she smiled politely, holding the door to let them out. Alex ignored the whispers about "Alex Hale and Blake Collins under the same roof!" and shut the door after them. Blake was packing away a few things into his bag when he caught sight of her in the mirror and glanced up from what he was doing.

"Hey," he said gently, finishing up quickly, and facing her. "How's your day going?"

"Quietly so far," she admitted, pacing towards him, with the click of her heels echoing around the room as they tapped on the laminated floor. "I've been _filing_."

He smiled. "The most exciting part of any Director's responsibilities." She returned his smile and crossed her arms across the file over her chest.

"Riveting stuff," she joked wryly, stepping a little closer. "How have your classes been? I haven't seen you since registration, and I have classes this afternoon."

He shrugged one shoulder, and examined his sleeve, ready to roll it down again. "They're talented, but they need some work."

"You're too hard on them," she said reproachfully, stopping him as he rolled one sleeve down. "Leave it," she commanded gently, looking at him. He crossed his arms.

"I'm not," he said. "They just need a little discipline in their lives if they ever hope to accomplish anything when it comes to dance."

Alex rolled her eyes and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ears. "I guess so. But I still think you're power mad at times," she teased. "Hitler."

"Hey," he said sharply, though he smiled a little. "I resent that." The reference to his less than flattering nickname was a little raw; Chase had left a month ago for Washington with Andie and Moose and the Collins' residence was decidedly quiet. It had finally come to it – Chase flying the nest – and though he never supposed it would happen, Blake _missed_ him. He missed the ridiculous hip-hop blaring through the floorboards. He missed his syrup on his breakfast cereal. Heck, he even missed fighting with him in the morning for the bathroom.

"Well, you know it's fairly accurate. You're a bit of a dictator at times," she smiled, going to leave. "I better head off to file some more before History of Dance with my seniors." Blake reached out and grabbed her arm unexpectedly and pulled her to him. Planting a gentle kiss on the edge of her mouth, he felt her muscles relax in her arms as she gripped his arms.

"See you later," he breathed. Alex made a strange noise somewhere between a murmur and a laugh; she was, unbeknownst to Blake, transported back to when they first started dating. He hadn't changed in that respect; the sudden kisses, and the gentlemanly, romantic gestures - of course when no one was looking. He was still a very private man, though it was no secret they were together.

"Are we still going out for dinner?" he asked, stepping back, looking serious once again. She nodded cheerfully, still thinking, and barely registering his words fully.

"Eight right?" she replied, smoothing her top once she had her arm back. He nodded as she walked away and pulled on the studio door.

"Eight o'clock Hale," he said sternly. "I'll pick you up."

"See you later then, Collins," she grinned, with a raised eyebrow. And with that she ducked out of the room and into the busy corridor. Blake watched her move away with his arms crossed and then grabbed his bag, ready to leave.

XXXXX

Alex pulled her phone from her pocket and tucked it under her ear as she picked some things up to carry through to the other room. "Hello," she answered quizzically, seeing as she hadn't checked the caller display as she'd answered.

"Alex?" said the voice. "It's me, Andie."

Alex smiled and put down everything she was holding to focus on the phone call. "Hey! Are you ok? There's not a problem is there?"

"No," laughed Andie down the other end. "I was just ringing to find out when you and Blake were coming to visit. Chase is practically wetting his pants he's so excited," she joked and the sudden 'oomph' told Alex that Andie wasn't alone wherever she was in Washington.

"Anyway," Andie continued slightly breathless, with a musical voice, "We were wondering if you wanted to stay a couple days longer than planned. It's just there's a freshman's ball coming up, with a kind of showcase…"

"Are you guys in it?" Alex asked moving out of the lounge and fiddling with her fringe. She was meeting Blake in a couple of hours and she wasn't even close to being ready.

"Yeah," Andie said, almost sheepishly. "We are, and so is Moose. Anyway we thought you might like to come see?"

"I don't know…schedule wise, school just started a month ago so we might not be able to. When is it?" Alex asked thoughtfully.

"Another month," Andie replied. "It's not a big deal, don't worry." She paused on the line and Alex heard a door slam in Washington. Andie began to speak very quickly. "Ok, he's left to go to the bathroom. This ball – it's actually a massive deal. It's the first real time students get to showcase to their parents and Chase, though he's been Mr. Nonchalant about it, really _really _wants Blake there."

Alex smiled at the thought. For all their bickering, they were certainly struggling without each other. "Is Francis going?"

"Yeah, but its Blake Chase wants to impress. His Mom is always going to be cool about it all, and after Chase turned New York down, he's worried Blake's disappointed he didn't go down the fancy pants prestigious route. No offence," she added with a sigh, remembering Alex went to New York.

"None taken."

"So will you come? He'll kill me if he finds out I told you, and you really can't say a word to Dickie C." There was another crackling pause. "It's all formal, so you get to wear a dress…" Andie said in a singsong voice.

Alex leant against the doorframe, quickly calculating their work schedule. "How I live for _those_ occasions. I'll have to speak to the boss, but I can't see it being an issue. I'll ring you back. Ok, Andie?"

The girl murmured her thanks down the phone and suddenly said 'bye!' loudly – Alex could only assume Chase had come back into the room, and she couldn't talk much anymore. Alex hung up, and shoved the phone back into her pocket.

XXXXX

"Open it," Blake commanded as he passed her an envelope across the table later that evening. She cocked an eyebrow and looked around the busy restaurant, before sliding her finger under the seal.

"You know," she scolded. "You didn't really have to get me anything. Anniversaries aren't that big a deal in the early stages."

Blake cleared his throat and glowered at her reprovingly. "I think three months is a huge milestone where we're concerned. Open it."

"Well, I didn't get you anything..."

Blake sighed impatiently, so she did as she was told, folded back the flap and pulled out what was inside. A small smile spread across her lips immediately, which turned into a broad grin – greater than when he had taken her to the opera. In the world of Alex, what she held in her hands surpassed an evening at the Opera House, as terrible as that made her feel.

"Baseball tickets!" she breathed, barely containing a squeal. "The Red Sox!"

"They might even win the world series this year," he said casually, as if they were simply having a conversation about her favourite baseball team instead of having presented her tickets to see them play.

"Blake, I haven't seen the Red Sox play live since I was sixteen! These are the best present ever," she said enthusiastically, leaning across the table and kissing him on the cheek.

"It's only a qualifier," he muttered. "But they are playing the Yankees at Fenway – which I know is a big deal to diehard Sox fans."

Alex's eyebrows shot up. "You bet it is. Like Germany and England."

"You can take your dad if you want. You don't have to take me."

"Dad will probably have tickets," Alex remarked. She glanced at the cardboard in her hand, knowing she should broach the subject of Chase whilst he was in a good mood. "Speaking of family. I was on the phone to Andy earlier – her, Moose and Chase are in some kind of showcase."

Blake's face grew a little blank and he busied himself with straightening cutlery. "Is that so?"

"It's around the same time as our visit – we'd have to extend it a couple of days to catch it but I figure you'd like to see it right?"

"Well, if my presence isn't going to upset Chase," Blake reasoned. "I wouldn't want to throw him off his 'game'. He doesn't usually want me at his performances, for fear of criticism."

"I think he wants you there," Alex said knowingly, touching his arm. "And you could always...not criticise him?"

Blake sniffed. "Sure. I don't see why not. Could be interesting. It'll just mean rearranging some things."

"Excellent," Alex smiled. "I'll let Andy know when we sort it out." She paused and squealed again. "Red Sox!" she cried, garnering some looks from people at the surrounding tables.

"Alright, alright," Blake said, hushing her. "Anyone would think I'd bought you the actual team."


	2. One Word

Chapter 2 – One Word

"You should have let me drive some of the way," Alex chided Blake as he rubbed his neck. They'd flown into Washington State but Blake had spent the best part of three hours driving to a hotel they were going to stay at in Seattle, which was a few blocks from Andie and Chase's college. He cast a reproachful look in her direction, and lifted the boot of the rental car to gather their bags.

"_I_ drive," he insisted. "It's a tradition."

"I think it's a control thing," Alex remarked, pulling on a sweater. It was a colder climate in Washington, and the skies were overcast.

"It is not a control thing," Blake retorted quietly, unzipping his own bag to find a sweater, riffling through in a hurried manner. "I always used to drive you around. It's something I like doing." He sounded a little dejected, talking through his teeth, and Alex couldn't tell whether she'd really bothered him or if he was still snarky because of the long journey. She came up behind him and squeezed his shoulders gently to calm him before kissing him on the cheek.

"I was only joking," she said quietly. He looked at her over his shoulder and shook his head.

"I know."

"So," she said, letting go of him to take a bag from the concrete floor where he'd put them. "We're checking in, and then walking to meet Chase and Andie?"

"That's the plan." He slammed the boot shut and clicked the keys, slinging his bag over his shoulders and gesturing for hers for him to carry. She took his hand instead.

XXXXX

The Washington School of Dance was much larger than they both remembered; it had been well over ten years since Alex was last there, looking round on an open day to see if the college would be the next step in her dance career. She liked it, but she'd had her heart set on London or New York when she was younger, and she'd been lucky enough to see one of those come to fruition. But it had never been this big, she thought, rounding a corner and going up some more steps to reach the reception area. It had undergone some extension work, and been modernised. The reception itself was completely visible through large glass windows that kept the foyer open and bright.

Blake bunched his jacket around him against the chill; it had started to drizzle a little on the way there, on and off, and he was walking briskly, clearly eager to get inside. He hadn't spoken much since they'd checked in – which had proved a little difficult, and resulted in him having some stern words with the hotel manager over the arrangements. They'd gotten a free bottle of champagne out of it all, but Blake seemed to be in a state of excited nervousness and the only way he could fight it was to keep quiet. Alex knew him well enough to know he was looking forward to seeing Chase, but anxious not to let his little brother how much he was missing him. She had to laugh; he'd never been any different with regards to his emotions.

"We'll need to get visitors badges," she remarked at his side. "And a map of the college might be good, seeing as I have no idea where anything is anymore."

Blake smirked. "Good idea."

The receptionist was helpful, pointing out on their map exactly where they were heading and how best to get there. Chase and Andie were in their last class for the day, or so they'd told them they would be when they'd last spoken. The plan was for them to give them a tour of the school, and their rooms and then for them all to get a meal together.

"When's your Mom getting here?" Alex asked, frowning at the map.

"She's already here," Blake replied, trying to fix his bad to his jacket and pausing midstride to do so. "She...got in...yester- would you mind? I can't fix the pin."

Alex gave him a look, and walked back to him, tucking the map under her arm so her hands would be free. She didn't say a word as she clipped it on, but flashed him a knowing smile which he furrowed his brows at.

"There you go," she smiled, standing inches from him, straightening his visitor's badge for him. "All done."

"Thank you," he sighed. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Don't be too hard on yourself. It was a really tricky pin."

He looked down on her with a withering expression. "You're hilarious."

"And you're an idiot. Look," she said quietly, as if Chase could hear them, "You have nothing to be worried about. This weekend is going to be great. For you, Chase...everybody. So relax. _Enjoy yourself_."

He paused and she could see he was clenching his jaw. "You're right."

"I usually am," Alex smiled, handing him the map and taking his free hand. "And the sooner you realise that, the easier our fights will be."

He laughed quietly to himself and kissed the top of her head in a shy gesture before they carried on walking, and headed to the studio where they would find Chase and Andie.

"Alex?"

Someone calling her name made her turn sharply in the direction it was coming from, just in time to see a woman sprinting towards her with a wide smile. "Alexandra Hale?"

"Jane!" Alex cried with surprise when she recognised her, letting go of Blake's hand and raising her arms. "What...why are you here?"

"I work here, what's your excuse?" Jane replied with a laugh, running her fingers through her red hair; she didn't look much older than she had last time Alex had clapped eyes on her which had been when they'd both left MSA. They'd been good friends growing up, but somehow they'd lost touch. She was still pale and freckly – the stereotypical redhead that she had been at school – but she looked smarter in her shirt and trousers, holding a clipboard.

Jane suddenly clocked Blake standing awkwardly behind the women and her mouth gaped. "_Blake Collins!_" she practically squealed. Blake gave her a polite smile – he'd known Jane when she'd attended MSA but she'd always been Alex's friend, and more of an acquaintance of his. "I haven't seen you in...what? _Ten years?_ Last I heard you were off to London to join the Royal Ballet..." She paused, and looked at them both with a crooked grin. "Are you two _still_ together?"

Blake looked at Alex, who looked up at him and they exchanged a smile. "Er...no...We weren't..."

"We broke up..."

"New York and London..."

"Long distance..."

"But we got back together..."

"Four months ago..."

"We're co-directors..."

Jane stared at them both as they tried to explain, talking over one another, and laughed again. "I can't believe it. Why are you here in Seattle?"

"My brother is one of the students here," Blake explained.

She nodded slowly, with a pensive look. "Right, you'll be here for the showcase then – I was just working with a group of first years. It's going to be awesome. Who's your brother?" she asked.

"Blake!"

Another voice cried out in the corridor, and they all turned to see Chase jogging towards them, with Andie in tow, not looking any different from when he had left a few months prior in a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt and his hat slightly askew. He met Blake in a hug that took his brother by surprise, so much so he nearly lost his balance and squeezed him tightly as he laughed.

"You made it then, bro," Chase said with a beaming smile, pulling back and holding his brother by the shoulders. Andie waved at Alex, both of them smiling at the Collins reunion, sharing a knowing smile that while they were both very proud, Chase and Blake had missed each other. As was evident from the broad grin on both their faces.

"_Chase_? Chase is _your_ brother?" Jane interrupted, her face wild with surprise. "I would _never_ have made that connection."

"No, well," Blake answered a little stiffly, though he had a small smile on his lips. Chase's arm was draped over his brother's shoulders. "We're at the opposite ends of the spectrum."

"Chase is in my Contemporary Dance Class," Jane explained carefully and adopting a tone that Alex would expect from a teacher talking to family members. "He's extremely talented and works very hard. But thinking about it, I'd expect nothing less from a Collins," she added with a wink, returning to her more familiar self.

Chase gave her a crooked grin and waved a hand. "You're making me blush."

"How do you guys know Mrs. Peterson?" Andie asked, speaking for the first time, and muscling into the group of them that were huddled in the corridor. Other students were milling around, moving to new classes or heading back to the dorms, and no one paid them any attention.

"Mrs. Peterson?" Alex frowned, eyes instinctively falling to Jane's ring finger and spotted a gold wedding band.

"Oh! Yeah, married three years now," Jane said, blushing a little herself. "He's an art lecturer here. I would have invited you but..." she grimaced awkwardly with a shrug but Alex waved her hand to dismiss her apologies. She understood. She'd lost contact with so many of her old friends from when she was growing up in pursuit of dance, so much so she hadn't got a clue who was married, divorced, who had kids, or _dead_ even. She supposed that was what Facebook was for, but she had very little time for that these days. "If you're in town for a while, maybe I could introduce you?" Jane asked, looking from Blake to Alex for approval.

"Why don't you join us for dinner this evening?" Blake offered, speaking for Alex. "It'll give you and Alex a chance to catch up." His girlfriend smiled at him gratefully and then looked to Chase and Andie.

"If it's alright with you guys?"

"Hey, I'm just happy we're eating out. My fridge is poorly stocked and I am starved," Chase joked, raising his arms.

"If you're sure?" Jane said, raising an eyebrow.

"It'll be a blast," Andie assured her with a wink. "We can reminisce, talk dance, Blake and Chase will fight, Alex or Mrs. Collins will break it up, and there's gonna be pizza. Just like old times."

The redhead laughed and held her clipboard to her chest. "How can I say no to that?"

XXXXX

"Blake, darling," Frances cooed, kissing her son on the cheek. "I wish you'd wear more colour."

"And hello to you too Mom," Blake replied sarcastically, looking down at his dark shirt and sighing heavily. Alex squeezed his arm reassuringly before greeting his mother in a warm hug and walking her to the table the rest of their party were sitting at. The restaurant was near the hotel and fairly busy; the noise boiled down to a low hum and the chink of glasses meeting and cutlery on plates. They'd been able to easily accommodate their large table of seven, even though Blake had called before they'd arrived to check. Andie was next to Chase wearing a light blue dress, and even Chase had put on a crisp white shirt for the occasion.

"Mom," Blake said. "This is Jane Peterson, and her husband – Jane teaches Chase and she went to school with me and Alex." The older woman shook hands with the pair, apologising for not remembering Jane - who simply smiled politely at her, still feeling the teenage awe of being introduced to Frances Collins – before taking her seat at the head of the table. "I'll let you sit between us," Blake whispered to Alex, ushering her to the seat beside his mother.

"Scaredy-cat," she hissed back, but she sat there all the same.

"Good evening," their server smiled as they all glanced over the menus. "Can I take your order?"

"Oooh, crab cakes," Andie remarked. "I'll have those. They sound good."

"Oh they are," Jane agreed. "Make that two," she told the waiter. Her husband – a tall thin man called Greg who was very blond with horn rimmed glasses – lay down his menu. He was the last person on earth that Alex had pictured her old friend with, but once they started talking, it was impossible to imagine them separately; they were one of those couples who were very good at finishing each other's sentences and pre-empting the other's wishes.

"I'm going for the linguine," he announced.

"The carbonara could be good," Blake mused quietly, but Frances gave him a reproachful look.

"Blake – pasta? Cream? Bacon? You may not be at RBS now but that's no reason to let yourself go."

"At nearly thirty," Blake sniped, without looking at her, "I think I'm quite capable of picking my own meal, Mom."

"I'm having the cheeseburger," Chase said loudly. "With fries."

His mother shook her head as the rest of the table fought their smirks. "I don't know. I raised you boys to eat well. We didn't have a nutritionist for nothing you know."

"You had a nutritionist?" Alex said, staring hard at Blake. "I did _not_ know that."

"Yes, well. I took a lot of trouble to conceal it from you," Blake sniffed. "From everyone. It was _embarrassing_," he shot at his mother.

"You say that Blake, but thanks to Marcel, you had good skin, strong bones and an excellent constitution," Frances said over her menu at him. "Not to mention he taught you to cook."

Chase snorted. "Excellent constitution? Blake gets a cold at the first _sight_ of rain."

Blake put down his menu with some force and glowered at his brother. "I was caught in a _torrential downpour_. Twice. It wasn't a little bit of rain. I got very wet and very cold," he said haughtily, snatching up his menu again as some kind of shield. "For other people, I might add. You being one of them."

"I told you they'd fight," Andie said in a sing song voice, nose buried in the menu too.

"I'll have the salmon," Alex told the server loudly over them all, smiling at the poor young man who's eyes were darting from one individual to another as he tried to keep up. She'd worked in a restaurant and she knew how difficult customers could be sometimes.

"Me too," Blake added sullenly.

The waiter jotted down their order quickly, taking great pain to make sure he caught every part of Frances', who wanted parts of her dish taken away and other parts added. He promised them more drinks while they waited, and returned shortly with a tray and complimentary breadsticks, which Chase and Andie dived upon.

"Hey Blake..." Chase said, already laughing at his own joke. "What am I?" He promptly stuck a long breadstick under his top lip, and then another to create long tusks. "Mba-Mba!" he managed to say.

"Hmmm, I don't know – an idiot?" his brother said with a simper. Chase's face dropped as he feigned sadness, and he yanked out the sticks and started munching on them.

"You two are hilarious," Jane laughed, pointing a long finger at the brothers as she reached for her wine glass. "Are you always like this?"

"Pretty much," Alex said across the table, brushing down her dress and leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. "It's their way of showing they care." Chase grinned and tossed a breadstick end her direction, which she shot up to dodge.

They fell into easy conversation until the food arrived – talking about MSA, and Baltimore, discussing Chase and Andie's progress. Jane talked freely about how well they were doing, and Chase remained very nonchalant as she praised him, uncharacteristically shying away from the attention. It wasn't until Blake spoke up and said something along the lines of having expected him to do well, that Chase perked up, and a look passed between the brothers of silent gratitude and pride.

"So, Jane," Frances started, pouring herself a glass of water from the jug on the table. "You were at school with Alex and Blake?"

Jane finished her mouth full and nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Collins."

"Ah, maybe you can tell us what these two were like at school," Andie probed. "The mystery surrounding them is a bit of enigma."

"Hardly..."

"Well...I met Alex when she was fifteen – she joined MSA around that time. She was very different from a lot of the other MSA girls," Jane chuckled over Alex's protests, settling herself into the story she was telling. "You know, a bit of a wild card."

"That's not true..."

"It is. She was very determined and focused, but she used to goof around and make us all laugh. Bit of a joker when she wanted to be," Jane added, smiling at her old friend who was rolling her eyes. "She used to do a _great_ impression of Blake, before they started dating."

Alex sunk a little in her chair as Blake's head turned slowly towards her. He didn't say a word but his look said it all. She grinned apologetically.

"And Blake..." Jane trailed off pensively searching for the words. "Well, Blake was pretty much the same as he is now," she said carefully.

"Uptight and cranky?" Chase offered, earning look that could kill from the man across the table.

Jane raised an eyebrow, but he noticed she didn't deny it. "They were a really great team actually, dance wise. I mean, their choreography was legendary in the corridors of MSA. You could pretty much count on them pulling something out of the bag. Didn't you guys used to go to some kind of ice cream parlour for inspiration?"

"Ice cream?" Frances interjected, with a surprised look at her son, putting down her knife and fork.

"You were saying," Andie said, shoving some crab cake into her mouth as she listened, saving Blake from the wrath of his Mom.

"They were actually more famous for having some of the greatest fights in MSA history. Talk about chalk and cheese," Jane continued, oblivious to Alex's awkward expression and Blake's irritated drumming of his fingers on the table. "Seriously, there was this one time where there were people actually at the door to the studio watching these two argue about something ridiculous like point work. Noses pressed against the glass. You know, one time, they had a fight in our history of dance class..."

"Jane," Alex warned, laughing nervously. "Not now."

"Sorry," her friend said softly. "I can just remember how shocked I was when you first started dating. I mean, I thought you hated the guy and you used to bicker all the time, and then suddenly Little Miss Casual strolls over and tells me she's going on a date with Blake Collins!"

"That's a point," Andie mused with a frown. "How _did _you two end up dating in the first place?"

"I'm not getting into that," Blake started. "It's a long story..."

Everyone at the table started to protest except for Blake and Alex who simply exchanged an awkward glance. "Oh come on," Andie chirped. "I mean, you were obviously totally different people when you first met. People who shouldn't have ended up together. What changed?"

Blake clenched his fists and sighed exasperatedly. "Look, it's nothing extraordinary - we didn't really get along, and then we got to know one another and started dating. That's really all there is to it."

Alex raised an eyebrow and set down her cutlery. "Wow," she said, stunned. "You've just managed to summarize two long years worth of relationship into a _sentence_."

"So much for 'it's a long story'," Chase muttered, earning a withering glance from his brother.

"Ok, how about 'it's a private story'?"

"Oh come on," Andie pleaded. Blake shook his head stubbornly. "Ok, ok," Andie sighed, knowing Blake wouldn't budge. "But answer me this – if you could sum up what changed it all in one word, what would it be?"

There was quiet at the table as they all looked at Blake expectantly, Alex included, as he seemed to be debating over whether to answer or not. He sat back, holding his glass thoughtfully and smiled crookedly.

"Ok..." he said quietly. "_Baseball_."

His brother blinked at him and frowned. "Baseball?"

"Yes."

"You don't even like sport."

"I like baseball," Blake shrugged.

"But how does that connect you two..." Andie tried but Blake raised a hand to cut her off.

"You didn't say I had to explain it, you just asked me to give you a word that changed mine and Alex's relationship. I've done that. Now go back to your crab cakes and _drop the point_," he lectured with a triumphant smile. The young girl shook her head and laughed to herself. She should have known Blake wouldn't play fair. She'd been hoping he'd say something that would give it all away, or that Chase would at least know the significance to, but then again he had been quite young when his brother and the woman beside him first got together. But still, _baseball_? What did that mean to Blake Collins, who had only ever thought of dance?

Alex fought her smile and returned to her salmon as the conversation drifted towards Greg's art classes at WSD. Baseball meant very little to the others at the table, but to her and Blake, and to some degree Frances – who had cast he a knowing smile – it had changed everything.


	3. A Bizarre Portmanteau

_A/N: Another author's note...sorry. Just a short, mostly fluffy chapter as Alex and Blake discuss the events of dinner and how even they struggle to understand why they came together as they did. _

Chapter 3 – A Bizarre Portmanteau 

"I should never have eaten dessert," Blake groaned as he lay down on the bed in the hotel room, loosening his tie but not mustering the energy to take his jacket off. He lay very still and closed his eyes; walking from the restaurant to the hotel, though it wasn't at all far, had nearly killed him.

"No, you shouldn't," Alex commented, shutting the door behind them. She pulled off her coat and draped it over the back of a chair before perching herself on the end of the bed where Blake was lying, noticing that he grimaced at the movement she created on the mattress. "But I could tell you weren't going to back down when Frances _forbade_ you to order the cheesecake."

Blake rubbed his eye sockets and smiled ruefully. "Stubbornness is a mandatory Collins trait, I'm afraid. I should know by know that my mother knows me best when it comes to my stomach."

"Well, if it makes you feel better," Alex laughed, pulling off her shoes. "You did a good job of pretending you weren't going to explode."

He smiled gratefully at her. "Thank you."

She rose to get him a glass of water and when she returned, they sat quietly for a while; Alex was lost in thought and humming quietly to herself, and Blake was trying to let the contents of his stomach settle a bit before he attempted to move again. Blake cleared his throat after some time, having gone over the events of the evening in his mind. "So. Jane's husband..."

Alex pulled some clips from her hair and shook it out, groaning. "I know..."

Blake laughed, but regretted the sudden movement. "She can say what she likes about us, but I would not have put them together in a million years. He's very...nice...amiable"

"Oh yeah," Alex agreed, looking down at him. "If not a little...you know..."

"Dull?"

"A little," she nodded, fighting a smile. "But very nice." She turned away from him again and stared ahead.

"You know," Blake said quietly, his tone becoming a little more sombre as he thought carefully over how to word what he wanted to say. "You changed the subject every time Jane started talking about her wedding." He managed to sit forward, as she was, with a small groan.

"I did?"

"Yes," he mused. "But if it makes you feel any better, you did a good job of pretending you weren't." Alex rolled her eyes, but she didn't smile and kept her eyes focused ahead. "Do you want to talk to me about it?" Blake offered, pulling off his jacket and laying it beside him.

"It's not what you're thinking," she said, flushing crimson.

"I hadn't really got any thoughts on it," Blake assured her calmly. "I was interested on _yours_."

Alex heaved a deep sigh. "It's just...maybe you can understand." She paused uncomfortably. "My entire life, every decision I've made –good and bad – was all for one endpoint: dance. And I sat there and realised that I'm nearly thirty and I have nothing to show for that."

"You _are_ co-director of a performing arts school," Blake reminded her. Alex pulled a face.

"Yeah, I know, but that's not what I mean. I have achievements, success, prima roles to be proud of. The directorship was the first decision I made that wasn't to further my career," she added, smiling a little, which Blake returned. She'd taken it to stay with him in Baltimore, and they both knew that. "But when I was growing up, my dad used to always say that it didn't bother him whether he was at the top of his profession, because he loved my Mom and me, and he had a family to go home to at the end of the day. And the only thing he would count as a failure was if _that _fell apart."

Blake listened carefully as she spoke. He felt like reaching out to touch her, but she was moving her hands expressively as she talked to him and so he sat still.

"So when I changed the subject at dinner, it wasn't because I was jealous, or because I didn't want to hear it, it was just that everything she spoke of reminded me of everything I've given up over the years. And I'm _not_ fishing for a marriage proposal – I mean, I don't know what's ahead of us...that is to say I wouldn't..." Alex trailed off, blushing deeply and putting her face over her hands and laughing. "Oh gosh, this is awkward," she groaned, lowering her hands to look at him. "I shouldn't have said anything. I should have just lied and said I hate talking about weddings."

Blake fought a smile and caught sight of them both in the full length mirror across the room. What had Andie said at dinner? "_You were obviously totally different people when you first met. People who shouldn't have ended up together." _But here they were. They weren't so different really, and when looked at their reflection – the both of them sat on the edge of the bed – they looked _good_ together. He liked being with Alex. It would be a lie to say he hadn't considered marrying her – be it now or back when he was a young adult. He couldn't vocalise that though. He stole a glance at the woman beside her; her hair had grown quite long since her return to Baltimore, longer than Blake had ever seen it. She'd worn the sides back tonight, but now, hanging about her face in dishevelled waves, she looked more and more like the seventeen year old girl he'd first started dating. "That's ok. I'm glad you talked to me about it."

"Even though I just made everything awkward?"

"Well," he laughed. "Not as awkward as Andie probing into our relationship at dinner tonight."

Alex laughed, grateful for the change of conversation, which she suspected he had done for her benefit. A prickly heat had taken residence down her back as she'd been trying to explain herself, and it had only just disappeared. "Nice play with the word 'baseball', Mr. Sly."

Blake smirked. "Yes, that will have Miss West tying herself in knots as she tries to work it out. Chase won't have a clue, and I doubt my Mom will tell her."

Alex rose from the bed and went to the dresser to take her jewellery off. "Probably not. But my Dad might – when he comes over for Christmas."

Blake paused and looked visibly concerned as he leaned forward to pull off his own shoes. "I hadn't thought of that. Of course I could ask William not to say anything. But that will probably mean I'll pay for it in ridicule."

"Don't be silly – Dad's always liked you."

"I know that," Blake smiled, rising with a bit of effort. He was still full but the worst of it had eased off. "But he's also always enjoyed a laugh at my expense."

"True," his girlfriend laughed. She turned to him and leant against the dressed. "Jane was telling me," Alex said wistfully, looking heavenward as she took out her earring, "that when we were at school everyone made a portmanteau of our names and they used to call us 'Hollins' behind our backs. Did you know that?"

Blake shook his head. He took off his watch and lay it on the bedside table.

"You know it's funny," Alex sighed, grabbing her wash bag and fiddling with the zip. "It bugged me when Jane kept saying it, but when I look back, I have no idea how we ended up together either. I think baseball had something to do with it but...we were totally at odds with each other at first. And yet at the same time..."

"It doesn't feel at all out of the ordinary?" Blake suggested, pacing towards her with his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

"Something like that."

"Can I be honest with you about something?" he asked, standing quite close, just a little taller than her.

"I'd like it if you were."

"I didn't think you'd even come to the first rehearsal," Blake admitted, taking the wash bag out of her hands and replacing it on the dresser so he could interlace their fingers. "We had a run in, before we'd even started, and I had pretty much convinced myself that you weren't coming. When you walked through the door, no one was more surprised than me."

Alex cocked an eyebrow and looked down at their hands. "Can I be honest with _you_ about something?"

"Please do."

"I _wasn't_ going to go. I talked myself in and out of it all day, from the moment you stuck that stupid notice up. I made a list Blake," she deadpanned, making him smile. "A list of pros and cons."

"I should imagine the cons part was extensive," Blake said wryly, cocking an eyebrow.

"Well, it was mostly cons," she shrugged. "But I came in the end."

"I'm glad you did," Blake answered, leaning in to kiss her. Alex's hands loosed themselves from his grip and snaked around his neck, and returned his kiss softly. He pulled back quite suddenly with a frown.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But..._Hollins_? Seriously?"

"That's what she said."

"Huh." He glanced off past her shoulder. "Who came up with that? It's ridiculous."

"Well, it could have been worse," Alex laughed, letting go of him and taking up her wash bag again. She padded over to the en suite, leaving him in his irritated stupor.

"How?"

"Um...We could have been 'Balex'. Or 'Cale'," she called out from the bathroom.

"Cale sounds better," he replied grimly, unbuttoning his shirt and going to the wardrobe for a hanger.

"Kale is a type of cabbage!"

Blake paused with a coat hanger in hand and frowned. "Nevertheless, I'm just saying. The very idea of it is ridiculous. We were hardly a celebrity couple and so we didn't warrant all this attention-"

"Blake!" Alex said exasperatedly, poking her head around the door of the bathroom and cutting him off. "Shut. Up."

She disappeared again, and he smiled to himself. "I'm just saying," he started, but before he could continued, a toothbrush came flying through the air with precision aim and hit him in the arm, fairly hard. He picked it up, muttering about how much it had hurt and when he looked up, Alex had appeared in the doorway and walked forward to yank the toothbrush from his grasp with a scowl. He chuckled, and even with a scowl, she couldn't help but flash him a grin. If only all their fights had been this good natured.


	4. A Rocky Start

_A/N: OK! We're in the past now, to watch the unfolding of B and A's unlikely romance. Happy days. You may recognise the second half from this fic's predecessor "Like We Used To" but it has been tweaked. Sorry for the length, but I guess this is a linking chapter. Besides, I uploaded twice in one day to make up for the long wait!_

_RdF_

Chapter 3 – A Rocky Start

"Hey, can you put me through to William Hale please? Department Nine? Thanks," Alex said, clutching the pay phone to her ear as she tried to speak clearly down it in the school corridor, which was teeming with students. "Oh, sorry. It's his daughter, Alex." She waited for the response, absentmindedly playing with the phone cord until she heard a familiar voice down the end.

"Dad? Hi! No, nothing's wrong. I'm fine – actually I was just ringing because, well...you know that audition I had? Well, I got picked," she muttered quietly down the phone, running her fingers through her hair. "Yeah – I know. It's just I knew you were gonna be late home and you said you wanted to know as soon as I did so...no, I'm going to think about it. I haven't decided yet," She nodded and frowned, feeling a pair of eyes on her. When she turned she saw Blake standing a few feet from her, looking expectant. "Look, Dad I've gotta go," she said glaring at the boy. "Yeah, I'll be fine. See you later. Love you, bye."

She put the phone back on its hook and folded her arms. "What do you want Collins?"

He adjusted the strap of the bag he was holding, pulling it up his shoulder, and gave her a steely glare, obviously biting back a comment he wanted to make. "I wanted to discuss something with you – I presume you've seen my notice."

"Yes," she responded frostily.

"Good. We should talk about our schedules."

"Our schedules?" she repeated.

He rolled his eyes impatiently as if he was talking to a child. "When are you free?" he asked he slowly. "I hope you're better at partnering than you are conversationally."

Alex glared at him but found no retort came easily. Instead she watched as he went into his bag and pulled out a piece of paper from a folder, reaching out to hand it to her. She snatched it from him angrily and glanced over it.

"That's a copy of my timetable," he explained carefully. "Just mark on it when you're free for rehearsals and we'll block in a routine."

"Sounds like fun," she said dryly.

"I figure we should have a stable rehearsal pattern."

"You do?"

Blake zipped up his bag aggressively. "There's no need to be intentionally difficult. Look, this is a marriage of convenience," he said simply. "I didn't pick you because I like you, I picked you because I know that we'll dance well together and that's really all that is important to me. So if this is going to happen, we should just try and be as civil as possible. If you can manage that," he added with a sceptical look.

"This isn't a 'marriage' of anything," Alex hissed exasperatedly. "And for the record, I don't like you either. Anyway, I haven't even agreed to be your partner. I didn't even audition!"

"Well that's strange," Blake mused, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Because from where I was sat, it _looked_ like you auditioned."

"Because you laid down a gauntlet! I didn't want to be your partner. So don't just waltz over here and assume simply because you 'chose' me that I'm going to accept. I have other things to consider," she added snidely.

"Like what?"

"Like whether or not I can stand to be in the same room with you," she retorted with an unpleasant smile.

Blake glanced off with a frown and sighed, clearly irritated that it wasn't all going as carefully as he had planned it. "Fine. But I'll be in the main studio tonight. If you could make up your mind and decide what you want to do, that would be great." He walked away before she could say another word, leaving her standing there, gripping his timetable and scrunching it up slightly with her fist.

"Alex," someone said from a little way down the corridor – her friend Jane. Alex paced towards her slowly, folding the timetable in half. "I saw you talking to King Collins – what did he want?"

"He wants to compare our schedules," Alex said, putting on a voice to sound like Blake's clipped, officious tone.

Jane smiled. "So you've decided to be his partner?"

"No!" Alex snapped. "I haven't decided anything yet, but I need to by the end of today, and he wants me to let him know."

"Well," Jane said carefully, pulling her out of the way of the students milling about. "What are the pros and cons?"

"There are a lot of cons," Alex sighed. "I don't like him really. He's a bit of an ass. But..."

"But?" Jane repeated.

"He's a really good dancer," Alex shrugged, sounding obviously torn, "and as loathed as I am to admit it, we're a similar height, weight...we're _a good match _in terms of dancing. It's just a question of whether I care enough about dance to put myself into a partnership that might result in me being sent to prison for murder."

Jane laughed and nudged her friend. "Come on, you'll be able to handle your own against Collins. In fact, I'd pay to watch you handle your own against him. Everyone's still talking about your audition and how you showed him up after he insulted you. Even more so since he picked you out of everyone else. He's notoriously hard to impress, like his Mom and Dad."

Alex exhaled a deep breath. "I guess."

"Collins _is_ a good dancer, and I'm sure that you'll just go to rehearsal, do a few hours hard work and that will be where you interaction ends," Jane mused wisely, pulling on a denim jacket. "It's up to you. In the mean time, we've got class."

XXXXX

Alex watched his figure through the glass of the studio door and weighed up the advantages and disadvantages for the hundredth time that day. She wished she could talk it through with her Dad but she knew how busy he was at the moment, and he would only tell her it was ultimately her decision. Blake was a good dancer; she could see that from where she stood, nervously shifting her balance from one foot to the other. And so was she. She could already see that technically, their partnership would be gold. She _had _been hand-picked too.

She sighed. Damn her ego.

Blake stopped dancing as he heard the creak of the door and turned to see the girl walking across the floor towards him. He had to admit, he didn't think she'd show up after their discussion earlier that day. He'd resigned himself to the fact that he might have to dance with Freda Philips, the blonde haired girl Alex had interrupted. But he had obviously underestimated Hale's pride. Blake took a bottle of water from his bag and took a drink.

"I didn't think you'd come," he said with a smirk. Alex shrugged.

"How could I turn down the lead in the Blake Collin's show?" she said mockingly. "Besides," she added, dumping her duffel bag at the side of the room and pulling out her ballet shoes, "I'd have to look for my own partner sooner or later, so I've killed two birds with one stone really."

"_You've _killed two birds with one stone? I don't believe you were even going to audition." Blake smiled at her as she tied her ribbons. She looked up, her hair falling across her face.

"Well, it was obviously predestined," she said sarcastically, straightening up.

Blake didn't say anything. He waited patiently as she warmed up. He tried hard not to watch her but he couldn't deny how intrigued he had been by her performance the other day. She had fused ballet, dancing that he knew well and loved, with something unfamiliar; a little more modern and feminine. She had listened carefully to the beat and the melody of the song and moved effortlessly and in time with it. Blake had spoke about it incessantly to his mother and father, the only people he could admit to that he had been wholly impressed with Alex. He could never tell her that, although he knew she would interpret his selection of her for her own ego. The student populace had talked non-stop about her audition and 'that pretty Hale girl getting one up on King Collins'. He detested the jokes about royalty.

He had been honest earlier when he said that her personality and whether they actually got on or not wasn't important to him, but he couldn't deny that it would be easier for all concerned it they just got on with it and tried to be nice. He'd heard that she could be, even though he hadn't witnessed it so far.

"Ok, your majesty, I'm ready," she half-smiled. Blake winced.

"Please, don't call me that," he found himself saying, though he supposed it might be pointless to ask.

She frowned at him. "Sorry, it's just everyone..."

"Don't. Don't do what everyone else does," he murmured coldly. "My name is Blake."

She didn't know what to make of him. She supposed that no one had come as close to Collins as she was going to over the next few weeks and she had better be ready for some surprises. "Sorry, _Blake_," she said meaningfully, as a kind of acceptance that she would do this his way; no easy feat for someone as stubborn as Alex.

"Thank you," he said quietly with a nod, so low that Alex thought she might not have been meant to hear it.

"Right, let's get on with it," she said, filling the awkward silence. "They tell me you're _quite_ good," she teased.

He raised an eyebrow. "They tell me you like to bait people; it won't work with me."

"We'll see," she said moving closer and allowing him to direct her into the first position he wanted her in. "You look quite easily 'stirred'." He rolled his eyes and lifted her arms to fifth.

"Shut up," he said in a low voice in her ear as he stood behind her. "I didn't pick you for your mouth. Let's just agree to working in silence, unless we have something to say that's to do with dance."

"Suits me fine," she replied with a resolute expression, staring straight ahead into the mirror and biting her tongue.

XXXXX


	5. Loggerheads

Chapter 5 - Loggerheads

"You're infuriating to the highest degree, Blake Collins!" Alex exclaimed, throwing her duffel bag down and turning violently on her heels to face the boy. He was wearing that insufferable smirk, and blinked at her as if he had no idea on earth what he possibly could have done to offend or upset her. Typical Blake; he never thought he'd done anything wrong. Everyone else was always at fault. Especially Alex.

"Well, I'm flattered that I have that much influence and effect in your life Hale," he replied smoothly in a very cold tone. "You're not really angry about this?"

This was how it had been for two months now – a constant battle of wills. It didn't matter who started it, because someone always did, and it seemed that their rehearsals either began or ended with a fight. When they weren't at each other's throats, Alex and Blake had perfected a frosty silence in which they worked, surprisingly, quite well. She'd expected nothing more – practically, they were unstoppable, garnering praise from all their instructors, and he was by far one of the best dancers she'd come across in the school if not (if she was pushed to admit it, which she wouldn't, not even begrudgingly) _the best_. But he was maddening some times; just when she thought 'hey, this isn't so bad', he went ahead and ruined it by unnecessarily criticising her, or by just simply being a jerk.

"Yes I'm angry," she said nodding, looking at him incredulously and crossing her arms. "We agreed on a schedule that would work for _the both of us_. But you've already messed me around. Twice, I hasten to add. And now you're switching our days around. Now, I let it slide the first time, but you can't keep doing it."

Blake looked heavenward, and matched her stance – arms crossed, all weight resting on one leg, with the other extended, and foot tapping. He did it absent mindedly, but it seemed to her that he was mocking her when he did.

"I _told_ you, if you'd listen - something came up. I tried to get hold of you, but you were unreachable," he said calmly. Alex sighed loudly and threw her arms up in the air.

"So it's _my_ fault you couldn't contact me?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Well, I guess that figures. You know, I keep forgetting how you can never be wrong!" She wondered how far she could push him this time until he snapped. He was disturbingly even tempered – although he bit back a lot, he hardly raised his voice, and retained such a control, it was her that ended up hot and bothered more often than not. If she was entirely honest, it didn't matter squat to her that he couldn't make a rehearsal – a break was welcome now and then, even if the short notice he'd given her was a little inconvenient - but it was his secrecy over_ why_ that intrigued her. She knew that she was only his partner – they certainly were not friends in any capacity – and he didn't really have to tell her anything at all. But that didn't stop her being a little curious as to why Blake Collins - disciplined, regimented, dedicated Blake Collins - had blown her off _twice _without so much as an explanation why.

"I'm here today aren't I?" Blake snapped. "And it's not me wasting rehearsal time by arguing about it." He shook his head, throwing her a glance with an expression that told her he was tired of this and strolled over to where his bag was. He began unpacking his things – ballet shoes, a bottle of water – and didn't speak again immediately. Sitting down to put on his shoes, he looked up at her briefly and then stared at his feet once more.

"If it happens again," he said curtly, "I'll make a point of finding you. As it was, I wasn't left with a lot of time to let you know anyway. I _apologise_."

Alex paused and looked at him with a fiercely indignant expression. She couldn't tell if he was sincere or not, but she'd lost the will to care. "Fine. Thank you. Make sure you do," she replied in a sweet voice. And turning from him she went to put her own shoes on.

Blake shook his head. She'd been testing the waters within their partnership for weeks now, picking fights unnecessarily, and he _was_ growing tired of it. He'd figured the easiest thing to do was to keep calm and to give her what she wanted - a feeling of control and power – and then maybe she'd shut up. Although, a large majority of him wanted to leap in and shout back at her, as she did to him. It wasn't always easy not to say anything. She had this nasty knack of nestling right under his skin in a way that he didn't allow anyone else to. It was no good trying to talk to his parents; they were firm believers that it didn't matter whether or not your personalities were repellent, as long as his dancing wasn't affected. Blake had to be honest - he didn't know it wasn't falling to pieces. The number of times he'd thought about dropping her mid-lift as pay back...it didn't bode well to think of. And all this over a couple of missed rehearsals? He could try and tell her why, but he doubted she'd understand, and he had no desire to make her.

Chase had been sick the first time, about a month into their schedule, and as a favour to his mother, he'd left school and gone to pick him up. She'd been halfway across tone at some kind of brunch, unwilling, but not unable, to get back to take care of her son, so Blake had excused himself from his second period dance class and left. Everyone was curious, but no one asked why – he was the son of the founders and he could leave class if he wanted. He didn't bother to correct their assumptions. The six year old had been vomiting terribly, going to the bathroom a couple of times an hour with stomach cramps, and Blake had sat with him all day bringing him water and reading to him in between bouts of throwing up and fitful sleep.

The second time, the day before, his parents had left unexpectedly for New York, and Blake didn't feel like he could leave his brother, even if it was just for the few hours he would be rehearsing. Of course Chase could have gone next door to where the Hammond's lived and played there, but Chase was _his_ brother, _his_ responsibility and he _wanted_ to take care of him. It was hardly Chase's fault their parents put dance before the welfare of their children.

The only reason he was here now was because Chase had a dance class of his own that he knew he could make it to in time to pick him up. He'd made sure to tell Alex they'd only be able to practice for an hour and a half – leaving the thirty minutes to get to Chase's school – and to compensate they'd have another rehearsal on Friday evening. She'd not been impressed by the change of plans – he'd forgotten that one of the reasons she was such a perfect partner for him was because she was as equally dedicated – and that was how the bickering had begun. On this occasion. He didn't doubt that had this whole situation not arose, she would have found something else to pick a fight with him about. He was pretty sure he could point at the cream walls and say just that – that they were cream – and she would turn and resolutely declare they were black.

Alex was stretching as Blake was – they usually did this in silence. In fact their communication had been limited to technical talk, when they weren't exchanging clipped insults. Simple discussions about what dance steps were working, which weren't, should they take the pas de bourrées out at that point – and they'd slipped easily into their routine, despite the rocky start. He could never admit it of course, but found that sometimes the silence and the work between them was quite comfortable, and he was almost at ease in her presence.

"Alright then," she said, not smiling but seemingly more relaxed than she had been before. He noticed dance seemed to do that to her, but then, it did the same to him. "Shall we begin?"

XXXXXX

She was a little breathless when they finished an hour or so later; Blake was a rigorous partner, and she felt a constant pressure to keep up with him and prove to him she was just as good a dancer, if not better. Reaching for her water, she drank most of it quickly and then pulled on her cardigan and trousers over her leotard and tights, unwrapping her dance skirt first. Blake was already done and drinking quietly by the door – he always looked away as she pulled her clothes on, though she never took her dance clothes off.

"Ready?" he asked blankly, and she couldn't miss the brief glance at the clock. She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," she replied. "Have you got somewhere you need to be?"

"I have to pick my brother up," he answered her, not meeting her eyes but holding the door open for her to walk out. There'd be no harm in telling her that, surely?

"Oh," she said with a frown. "I didn't know you had a brother. Younger obviously?"

"He's six," Blake replied, with an almost fond tone to his voice, Alex noted. She walked slowly beside him in silence, not knowing how to respond. She hadn't expected him to have a brother, or any siblings for that matter; he'd always seemed like an only child. But there was real warmth in his expression in the brief instance he spoke of him.

They stepped outside, and the air was cool, but all the more considering how warm they'd been in the studio. The sky was overcast, with a few shreds of sun trying to break out, but none of its fiery warmth coming with it. Alex pulled a coat around her tightly, and noticed Blake doing the same. Smiling politely at him, she mumbled a goodbye before heading down the street in the direction of her home. Blake frowned after her, a sudden thought striking him before he could even think about the ramifications.

"Alex!" he called out. She spun, with a face full of obvious surprise, and looked at him expectantly.

"Don't you...live a couple blocks from my house?" Blake asked strolling towards her, maintaining his confused frown.

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. Well, it's more like six, but near enough."

Blake stared at her. "You're walking?"

Alex paused. "Yes."

"That's over five miles!"

She shrugged. "I quite often walk it. My Dad works late on Wednesdays so I make my own way. It's not a big deal," she smiled. "Besides I know a short cut."

Blake raised an eyebrow. "Well, don't you drive?"

"I haven't got a car yet," she frowned, feeling a little uncomfortable underneath his inquisition. "But I have passed," she added as an afterthought. She didn't add that her beloved truck she'd been driving around in had died. She was the first to acknowledge how proud she could be, and she knew full well what being Blake Collins entailed. His parents drove sports cars, holidayed abroad regularly, held extravagant functions and were world famous dancers. Her truck had been second hand from a friend of the family, and her father worked in advertising.

"Well," Blake asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and looking briefly at his feet, mentally cursing himself for what he was about to do. "Do you...want a lift home?"

Alex opened her mouth to object straight away, but paused as she thought about it. She'd get home quicker, be much less tired and wouldn't have to watch her back. She didn't live in a particularly dangerous area, but she'd been tailed a few weeks ago and it had bothered her ever since. Plus, she had to get home to cook dinner too. Everything was logical about it, except for spending time with Blake Collins that wasn't on a strictly professional basis.

Perhaps she should look at it like business arrangement. He was helping her out. Scratching her back. She shook away that thought. It didn't help to look at it like that.

"Sure," she smiled, sighing. "Why not?"

He nodded, giving no clue to how he felt about her accepting and beckoned for her follow him to his car, parked at the rear of MSA's large parking lot. Alex couldn't believe she'd never noticed him pull in to the school before – it struck her as quite odd she didn't have a clue what kind of car he drove. She prepared herself to be intimidated, but had to frown when she spotted something small, fairly sleek and very blue.

She was hardly a car expert but as they drew closer she read the silver lettering on the back. A _Ford Mustang Boss_. Vintage - not a sports car like his Mom and Dad, but it could still be one of those old cars from yesteryear that were worth an absolute fortune. Or he'd paid beans for it, and would have to spend the rest of his life buying old scrap parts for it, and on closer inspection that seemed more likely. She saw the signs of wear and a little bit of rust on the blue bodywork, and Alex had to conceal her surprise. She had expected something brand new at least, but to have rust? Perhaps he wasn't the hoity-toity King Collins she had thought after all.

"Wow Collins," she mused. "This is actually a pretty nice ride."

He didn't smile but seemed to nod in thanks. "You don't mind if we pick my brother up first do you? It's not far from our houses," he asked, with an expression that dictated her opinion wouldn't affect his decision in any way. She shook her head and climbed inside the car.

XXXXXX

They drove in silence for the first few minutes, with Blake quickly turning the radio off as they began driving. He was careful; pausing at junctions, and sticking to the speed limit. Now that was the Blake Collins she expected. Calm, controlled, law abiding. She'd seen a brief glimpse that suggested there might have been more to Blake than he let on, and what he let on didn't impress her largely, so she hoped that once you scratched away at the steely exterior, there might be someone worth talking to.

"So your brother," Alex asked after a while just to make conversation, turning to him. "What's he like?"

Blake glanced at her from the corner of his eyes but then returned them to the road. "Like anyone's little brother."

"Cute?"

"Irritating," Blake said stiffly.

Alex smiled and shook her head. "Well, I'm woefully unqualified to talk about siblings – I'm an only child – so whether it's normal for 'anyone's little brother' to be irritating, I wouldn't know."

Blake managed a smile, and indicated left down a town street, knowing he wasn't far from the school. "He's called Chase."

"That's nice." She paused, indicating with her silence for him to go on. He glanced at her – she was staring intently at him, and it made him feel uncomfortable. She wanted to talk to him? He tried to focus on the road. He and Alex hadn't attempted civil conversation yet, and he was wondering – waiting in fact – for there to be a catch. In the meantime, he supposed he could follow.

"He dances."

"I figured that much," Alex laughed. "He is a Collins."

Blake rolled his eyes – the first jibe. "We're not all dancers. My maternal grandfather was an electrician, thank you very much."

"Right," she said, as if she didn't believe him.

"Anyway, you'll get to meet my darling little brother in just a moment, so there's not much point me telling you about him. He can talk enough for himself," Blake muttered, seeing the turning for the car park of Chase's preparatory dance school and pulling smoothly into a space.

"I'll go get him," Blake commanded, opening the door and letting in the cool air. "It'll save you getting out."

Alex bit her tongue and slumped in the passenger seat. Well, she had tried. Blake clearly wasn't the kind of person you could be friends with – and certainly not with her. They were worlds apart, and certainly didn't have anything in common besides dance. Plus, as she had mentioned early, he really was quite insufferable. It wasn't as if she wanted to be the best of friends with Blake though; she simply wanted there to be a better atmosphere. She liked a fight as much as the next person, but every week? And no one was more stubborn than Blake. Anyone else would back down from an argument with her after a little while, but he was tenacious. Like a dog with a bone! He was the harshest critic too – she could do nothing right. Alex began, tracing shapes with her finger on the dashboard. Why did it bother her so much what Blake Collins thought of her anyway? She was so lost in her thoughts and conflicts in her mind that she hadn't noticed Blake return, with Chase in tow, so when the door opened, she jumped. Blake smirked.

"Sorry, did we frighten you?" he asked, completely apathetic as he pulled the seat across for his brother, who clambered into the back and yanked on his seatbelt. Alex ignored the older boy and stole a look at the infamous Chase; a tiny frame swamped in jeans and a sweater, he was pulling a cap over his light blonde shaggy bowl cut, looking worn out but thoroughly gleeful. He caught Alex's gaze and grinned widely, revealing gaps where teeth should be and a blue tongue.

"Hey," Alex said, offering her hand. "I'm Alex, you must be Chase."

"Chase Collins," he replied, leaning forward and shaking her hand nimbly. He spoke with a slight lisp that was immediately adorable. "You're dancing with Blake at his school."

"That's right," she smiled as Blake got into the driver's seat. "I'm his dance partner for this year. Have you just been dancing?"

The boys face lit up, and reservations he'd had dissolving in his excitement. "Yeah and guess what? We were doing our pos-it-ions," he started, speaking so quickly he had to slow as he stumbled over the longer words, "and Miss Jackson said mine were the bestest out of the whole class and so she gave me some candy. Blake said to save it for after dinner but I wanted it and I don't like doing what Blake says because he never lets me doing any fun fings and so I ate it and guess what?"

"What?" Alex asked. Blake was looking at his brother in the rear view mirror waiting for him to finish the story impatiently. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the muscle in his jaw jump as he tensed it.

"It made my tongue go all blue!" And the boy stuck his tongue out violently to prove it.

"Whoa," Alex laughed, feeling breathless herself from the boy's story. "I wish I had some candy."

Chase seemed to pause in deep thought. "I have three cents in my pocket...I can buy you some candy?" he asked with a smile. "I have enough for a remote control car so I'm sure you can borrow a cent."

"That's very sweet," Alex replied, "But you keep your money."

"Sorry to interrupt," Blake sighed, starting the engine and just about managing to smile. "But have you got your belt on Chase?"

"Aye aye Captain Blakey!" the boy suddenly bellowed, saluting. Alex laughed in disbelief as Blake gripped the wheel a little tighter and his face flushed a little with embarrassment. His brother seemed confused and began to grow quiet.

"Are we not playing Pirates today, Blake?"

"Er...not today," Blake coughed as they pulled of the school. He looked left and right, paused for an oncoming car, and turned, heading to Alex's house which was before theirs in the neighbourhood they lived in.

"Alex can play too," Chase cried bouncing in his seat.

Alex looked at Blake, and mused quietly to herself. It was interesting to see him like this – _human –_ and she doubted she'd get another chance.

"Alex doesn't want to play," Blake lied smoothly adopting the same voice, Alex noticed, that he often used with her. She crossed her arms, a little annoyed.

"I can answer for myself," she replied haughtily. Blake gave her a sideways glance.

"Trust me, you don't want to play."

"I thought she was your girlfriend," Chase moaned, "Make her play. We _always_ play pirates on the way back from dance."

Alex turned to face him in her chair sharply, Blake almost overshot at a junction. "Chase!" he said through his teeth. "She's not my _girlfriend_."

"Chase, do you even know what a girlfriend is?" Alex asked carefully, fighting a grimace.

"He doesn't - he's just copying some kids he hangs around with," Blake interrupted, with a dismissive tone, trying to move the subject along.

The boy looked indignant and scowled at his brother, or at the back of Blake's head. "Do too! I have a girlfriend called Haley Preston and she is six and three quarters and so am I and she is my girlfriend - we hold hands!" he pleaded to Alex, who listened attentively while Blake drove on in a sulky stupor. "Anyways," Chase continued, stressing his words angrily at Blake, "Jimmy Hammond's older brother has a girlfriend and he drives her around in his car too, jusss like you are with Alex." He crossed his arms as if finalising his point. "I'm not stupid Blake. I'm nearly seven. You don't know everything."

Alex thought it best to jump in before the brothers started tearing chunks out of one another. "Chase. Sweetie. We're not going out. We're not even friends. We just work together at school," she explained slowly. "But we don't get on. Blake was just being kind and driving me home so I didn't have to walk all the way." Chase shook his head and twisted his cap to the side.

"That's not true! Blake said he thinks you're a really good at dancing, and that you're a good person and he said to Mommy you were the best in the whole year and guess what?"

"Chase, you've said quite enough," Blake spat in a menacing tone, finally jumping in and far too late. "Shut. Up."

"What?" Alex asked quietly, probing a bit further since her curiosity had been piqued.

"He told Dad you were pretty," Chase stage whispered, cupping a hand to his mouth.

Blake broke a little harder than necessary and the car came to an abrupt stop at the side of the road. Alex looked around with a shocked face and then stared at Blake.

"Here's your house," he said all too quickly and far too cheerily. "Bye."

Alex knew when she was beaten, and when was a good time to retreat. However shocking the information was, Chase had given her weeks of leverage and she could happily walk away now knowing she'd see him squirm tomorrow. "Bye Chase," she said. "I was nice to meet you. See you, Collins." And she picked up her bag from the floor of the car and slammed the door, strolling to her house with a confident smile.

Blake said nothing, only gripped the steering wheel tighter until his knuckles were white.

"Blake," his brother asked, having completely forgotten the entire car journey and returned to his usual happy little self. "Can we get ice cream? Please please please pleeeeeease..."

Blake shot around in his seat and stared at him hard. "What do you think you little weasel? I thought I told you back at the school not to talk!"

Chase seemed to take in his brother's angry visage and ponder for a moment and then pouting a little before smiling, he yelled, "Yay! Ice Cream! Woo! Thanks Captain Blakey."

Blake sighed and started the engine. His brother most likely would never realise the damage he'd done, but at six, he could hardly be punished for his naivety. Alex however was seventeen nearly, and he knew, as he pulled away, this was not the end of the ridicule.


	6. Baby Steps

Chapter Six – Baby Steps

He'd managed to avoid her at school – it wasn't as if he saw her regularly anyway. Unless they were rehearsing, Blake and Alex didn't exactly move in the same circles. Alex had Jane, the red head she was always with, and Blake had...well, himself. His friend didn't really share the same viewpoints and opinions as him; he was much more driven, not to mention fairly strict about his lifestyle and he always got the sneaking suspicion that anyone who claimed to like him were only around him because of who he was or, more importantly, who his parents were.

But Friday swung around much quicker than he would have liked, and as he walked into the main studio, just as a class were leaving, he saw Alex sat on a bench already dressed for dancing. She had a quiet smile, and a serene expression; he wondered what she was thinking about that had her so totally lost from this world and immersed in another. She sighed, sounding truly peaceful for a moment, and he wondered if he should leave her be. But she saw him before he had a chance to run away, and her peaceful smile turned into a wide beaming grin, and slapping her thighs, she rose from where she sat and walked over.

"Ah Collins," she said, "You turned up."

Blake opened his mouth to retort – one of the hundred things he'd been rehearsing in his head all day to come back at her with should she start going on about Chase's accidental revelations – but found he couldn't. She didn't seem confrontational; she just seemed as if she wanted to get on with dancing.

"I've stretched," she added, playing with her ponytail and twisting it up into a bun. "I had a free period last, so I got here early."

"Ok," was all he managed, unzipping his bag. "But you'll still have to wait for me."

"That's fine," she smiled and putting her hands behind her back she began to pace across the wooden floor, looking at her pointes. Blake stood up quickly and glared at her.

"Alright, what are you up to?" he asked sternly. Alex spun on her heels and stared at him, looking genuinely confused.

"Sorry?"

"You heard me. I don't like games so whatever...thing...you're trying to do, I would prefer it if you just openly mocked me and got it over and done with," Blake said quickly but clearly, folding his arms aggressively.

"I'm not doing anything," Alex laughed.

"Yes you are," Blake cried indignantly,

"Ok," Alex sighed. "Please, tell me exactly what it is I've done since you've walked in."

Blake paused and put his hands on his hips. "Well," he started, faltering again as Alex raised an eyebrow and waited for a response. "Well, you've been...nice to me."

"Right," Alex said slowly, feigning guilt. "I'm so sorry. I realise that must have been fairly distressing for you. I'll bear that in mind for future interactions between us."

"You know what you're doing," Blake smirked. "Don't play coy, Alex."

"Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now?" Alex asked, cocking her head on the side with an amused smile. Blake shook his head, pulling on his own shoes a little aggressively.

"Look, I know what you're playing at," Blake sighed, rolling his eyes and walking straight past her to the centre of the room to warm up. "You think, just because of what Chase told you that you have some kind of 'power' over me now. I don't like it. It's childish. And annoying," he added for good measure.

"I honestly hadn't given it much thought," Alex said with a puzzled face and staring at him. "But I'm flattered that I have that much influence and effect on your life, Collins," she added smoothly. He winced as she repeated his words from the other day back to him.

"See, that's what I'm talking about," Blake muttered tersely. She blinked at him and took a deep breath in the quiet of the studio.

"I truly," Alex smiled, "joking aside, wasn't going to bring it up. It's not a big deal," she added. "I know you think I can dance – it's not a secret. And that's not arrogance either," she added, noting Blake's expression. "You wouldn't have picked me if you didn't think I could dance, and I know you have _impossibly_ high standards. It's simple logic."

Blake inhaled deeply and regarded her expression a little longer, waiting for the shift from the girl before him back into the teasing vision of Alex he'd been expecting. She seemed a little smug, and true enough, looking at her feet again and moving her ankle in a small circle, her face broke into a smile.

"However, the knowledge that you think I'm 'quite pretty' _was_ news to me..."

"That was taken _completely_ out of context by a _child_ who heard the tail's end of a conversation," Blake started ranting, pointing a finger at her, with Alex still grinning wildly. "And twisted it into something that sounds more flattering than it was meant to be."

"So you _don't_ think I'm pretty? You think I'm ugly?" Alex frowned; trying to look hurt and holding a hand to her chest. Blake's mouth dropped as he stumbled for words, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"That's not what I...what I said was..." he tried to say, as his partner fell into peals of laughter. He fumed until Alex had finished. Standing up straight and coughing, she took another deep breath and met his eyes. "I have you finished?" he asked shortly. "Because I think it's about time we actually got on with something."

"I'm still waiting for you to warm up," Alex replied with a shrug. He tapped his foot, realising she was right and sighed a heavy sigh – one of defeat – before beginning his warm up routine. When he was finished, he glanced at the clock and raised his eyebrows.

"We should probably go through the choreography we started on Wednesday."

She didn't say another word, even in confirmation; her face was one of quiet amusement and she simply nodded, pacing across to him. She got herself into first position obediently and cleared her throat. Blake stared hard at her, waiting for another taunt to escape her lips, but nothing came, so he grabbed the remote and placed himself beside her in his own beginning stance.

"I simply meant that you have attractive _qualities_," Blake explained stiffly. "Not that I find you attractive." That was a lie; she _was_ attractive, and he'd have to be blind not to notice that. He was after all a man underneath the bravado. His father had asked whether or not his new partner was good looking, to which he'd said, yes, she was quite pretty. Evidently Chase had heard him – he was sure he'd heard the little boy at the doorway. He was a great one for sneaking and spying. It wasn't as if Blake _liked _her, however. You could find someone attractive without being attracted to them, couldn't you? Her ego had already swollen in the last few days and he didn't want to add to it by explaining himself any further.

"Oh. Sure," Alex replied, but smiling intently. She looked to him from where she stood, blinking slowly. "Of course."

"I'm glad that's cleared up," Blake mumbled, swallowing hard, and avoiding her eyes. Pulling the remote from his dance pants pocket to turn on the music player, Tchaikovsky instantly filled the studio. It was instantly soothing on his nerves, and he could concentrate on the steps without interruption. He wasn't sure if she'd continue with her jokes once they were done – she seemed quiet, and focused on dancing for now – but if she did, he'd have a choice. He could either murder her, or Chase for starting this in the first place.

But she didn't. In fact, she was very quiet when they'd finished, yanking on a sweat top and drinking almost her entire bottle of water. That same pensive expression he'd seen on her face when he'd walked on had reappeared, and she moved as if he wasn't in the room.

"Are you ok?" he ventured, stuffing his things in his duffel bag. She looked across at him through her fringe and frowned.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem...far away," he said trying to explain it, and when the corners of her mouth curled up into a curious smile, he scratched his head. "Forget it."

"I'm fine," Alex assured him.

"Ok," he urged, looking elsewhere, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut. "Sorry for asking." He mentally slapped himself – why was he apologising to her?

"Ok," she repeated, shaking her head. "See you next week," she called out, pushing the door to the studio open and leaving him alone. He took his time to pack his things up, putting some distance between them. Sure enough, when he finally emerged, she wasn't waiting for her lift in the parking lot, and he loaded his car with relaxed shoulders. He couldn't help but feel like Alex had the upper hand now, no thanks to his little brother, but there was very little he could do about it. He couldn't take it back could he? He slammed the door once he was in the driver's seat and sat for a moment, wondering what on earth had possessed him to even admit that she was good looking to his father. If that hadn't have happened, he wouldn't be in this ridiculous situation. He turned the ignition, hearing the engine chug to life in the same familiar way it always did, and looked over his shoulder to reverse out. He didn't usually discuss anything with his father unless it was to do with his future, let alone the inner workings with his mind. It started to rain as he pulled away from MSA, so he flicked his wipers on and turned the heating up.

He had been driving for a few minutes when, quite a bit ahead of him on the sidewalk, he saw a figure walking; duffel bag slung over her shoulder, jacket wrapped around her tightly, and walking quickly against the drizzle, it was unmistakeably Alex. Blake frowned, and slowed the car. It was Friday – hadn't she said her father only worked late on a Wednesday? So what was she doing walking all the way home in the rain?

"Not that it's any of my business," he muttered to himself. But he couldn't rationalise leaving her to walk, as much as having her in his car again might make him a glutton for punishment. Still there was no Chase this time so it wasn't as if the boy could get him into anymore trouble. He tutted and growled a little, and began to pull up alongside her.

He beeped his horn in a short sharp burst, making her jump round in surprise and, when she recognised the blue paintwork, she rolled her eyes heavily. She stopped, just as Blake rolled down a window and leant across the gearstick to talk to her. She brushed her hair from her face trying to look a little more dignified and furrowed her brow at him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking at her as if she were mad. She looked it – her hair was already fairly wet, hanging in dripping curls about her pale face, and she'd be soaked by the time she got home.

Alex blinked at him incredulously. "Pitching a no-hitter for the Yankees - what's it look like? I'm walking home."

"Why?"

"Because Blake, when you want to get from A to B," Alex explained very slowly and in a sing-song voice which made Blake grit his teeth, "you have to use a mode of transport. I chose my legs. You see, I left my magic carpet at home."

"I mean," he said coldly, "why hasn't your Dad come to get you?"

Alex crossed her arms and scowled at him. "He's been held up."

Blake heaved a sigh – he was going to get nowhere with her by asking questions. "Come on. Get in," he commanded, lifting the lock on the door so she could climb inside. Alex stared hard at him as the realisation the Blake Collins was offering her a ride home _again_, out of the goodness of his tiny robotic heart _again_, took a few moments to settle in.

"What?"

"It's raining, and you've got another four miles to go. I'll give you a lift. Get in," he repeated. She didn't move so he sat back in his seat. "Fine then," he said, pulling away from the curb slowly, but Alex started towards the door.

"No! No...wait," she said, and it sounded as if she were suffering from some inner turmoil. What was there to think about, Blake thought angrily. They may not be close, but he'd rather get in a car with her than walk all that way in a downpour, which it was steadily becoming. "Hold on," Alex said, opening the door and climbing inside, closing it with a little bit of force. He waited patiently until she'd gotten her belt on, and the second she had, Blake pulled off and headed for their street.

"I suppose I should say thank you," she said after a while. Rather begrudgingly, he noticed but he couldn't muster a smirk.

"You're welcome," he responded coolly, flicking on the wipers to a higher speed as the heavens opened and the droplets began to fall thick and fast, relentless. Alex looked out of the window, pulling a face at the bad weather, and glanced back at Blake with a frown.

"What?"

"Nothing," she muttered, going into her bag to get a towel out to dry herself off a little. Well this was just peachy, Alex thought to herself, huffing internally at her bad luck. The second she had something over Collins and here he was, victorious again, as he played the hero. She would have been fine to walk, had it not have started raining. She supposed he thought she would be indebted to him in some way now.

She didn't say a word to him as she started to dry herself off, feeling grateful for the warmth coming from the small heaters in front of her.

"Which shortcut do you take?" Blake asked.

"Huh?"

"You said the other day you take a shortcut that cuts time off your walk – which one?"

"Oh," she replied. "Across the Green."

Blake felt his mouth gape open. "Across the Green? Are you _trying _to get yourself killed? Does your father know?" he added, sounding much like a paternal figure himself he realised, noting his stern and lecturing tone. He was one cry away from uttering 'young lady'.

"It's perfectly safe," she grumbled, ignoring his question about her Dad. William _did not_ know, and if he did, he'd be beyond furious.

"Hmmm, yes. I'm sure the hundred of victims that have been mugged, raped or killed in that area would agree with you," Blake sniped sarcastically. She flashed him a steely look.

"It's not really any of your business which way I walk home is it?"

"_Fine_," Blake snapped. "Excuse me for caring."

He ignored Alex's snort at his words, and kept his grip on the steering wheel. He went to change gear as they came to a T-junction, but the car came to a slow stop, with the engine dying as they reached the line. Making an angry noise at the back of his throat, and fighting the urge to pound the wheel as he might do normally, Blake turned his key in the ignition once again, bringing the car back to life. Alex watched him closely with wide eyes, having felt her heart jump into her throat; scenarios of the two of them trapped in a rainstorm in his car had crossed her mind, and none of them ended with them both coming out alive.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Oh, something the car's been doing lately," he sighed as they carried on. "It just suddenly stops while I'm driving sometimes. But it's ok once you turn the key again. I should probably take it to a garage. Price I pay for picking an old car I guess," he added, trying to sound jokey, but really only managing disgruntled.

"It _sounds_ like your alternator is giving up the ghost," Alex remarked. Blake turned his head to her with a frown, surprised by her words. She glanced at him apologetically. "The alternator? It's...er...attached to your battery," she explained carefully. "It helps charge the battery as you're driving but by the sound of it, it's not helping the battery to _hold_ its charge." Alex returned her focus to outside at the passing houses in the suburbs and nestled down in her chair to get comfy.

"How do you know that?" Blake asked her softly, unable to contain his how stupefied he was.

"It's just one of the many things that was wrong with my truck," she smiled ruefully.

"I thought you didn't have a car."

"I did," she admitted sheepishly. "Until it died. It needs a new crankshaft but..." She faltered. "Well, it'd be cheaper to buy a new truck."

Blake nodded awkwardly and noticed that Alex's cheeks were growing a little pink. He didn't know quite what to say. "Still," she continued, sounding a little more upbeat, "an alternator shouldn't be too hard to replace."

"Even for an older car like this?" Blake asked.

"Well, it might be a little trickier. How old _is_ this thing?" she asked, wrinkling her nose as she turned around in her seat to look in the back at the fabric seats. Blake's bag was in the back, but beside that it was immaculate. Not a crumb or candy wrapper in sight. Blake obviously took good care of his car, which surprised Alex even further. She turned back round. "It's vintage right?"

"Late sixties – 1969, I believe. And she prefers the terms 'classic'," Blake smiled.

"She?" Alex repeated, cocking an eyebrow.

"Isadora," he said fondly, gesturing to the car.

"Isadora?"

"Isadora Duncan? She was a dancer."

"Yeah, I know who she is Blake," Alex tutted. "I just didn't expect you to have named your car."

He smiled to himself, and pulled over to the curb outside Alex's house. "You haven't named your truck?"

"Oh it has a name alright," Alex snorted. "But it's usually just a long string of expletives and I doubt that it likes it all that much." She grabbed her bag and went for the door. "Look...I...er...thanks for stopping. It was...kind of you." She sounded as if it had pained her to say it and he couldn't help but smile.

"You're welcome."

She paused awkwardly wondering whether or not to say anything further, but she decided to just disappear quickly, and opened the door to get out, swinging her legs out. Blake closed his eyes and screwed up his face behind her back, debating with himself whether or not he should say what was on his mind. He was in conflict; one side of him didn't want to give a damn what happened to her, and the other side – perhaps a little stronger – really didn't like the idea of Alex walking home by herself, simply because she couldn't get a lift.

"Alex, wait," he sighed, dejectedly. She was out of the car and bent down to meet his eyes.

"What?"

"Look..." Blake started, and groaned. "I can't believe I'm about to suggest this...it makes no sense you walking home when I live so close by. Let me drive you home on Wednesdays, or any other time we have a rehearsal and you can't get back."

She stared at him and tucked some loose hair behind her ears. "What?" she repeated.

"You can't walk home through the Green!" he cried. "Or in the rain. It's not...well, I can't let you do it."

"You...can't let me do it?"

"No. And it's practical. I only live a few blocks away. It's economical."

"Economical?"

"Stop repeating everything I say back to me," he scolded. "It's annoying."

"Well since we can't have a normal conversation without getting into a fight, Blake," Alex said softly. "I doubt spending extra time together will be good for either of us."

"Or...it might ease the tension," he suggested. "Maybe we just need to get to know one another. I'm...sort of sick of fighting with you all the time," he admitted, scratching his head. "You're a little too good at it."

She gave him a crooked smile. "Well, from Mr. Tenacious, I shall take that as a compliment."

Blake rolled his eyes and stared ahead, down the street in front of him. Perhaps she was right – spending more time together would only lead to more strain. But he had this sneaking suspicion that if they both put their minds to it and actually tried, they might be able to get along. And at the end of the day, that's all two people could do – just to try.

"Alright," she said, sighing and tearing him from his thoughts. "It makes sense I guess. Practically...economically. And if I catch a cold from walking home in the rain, I don't suppose you'd let me hear the end of it. I'm not giving you that satisfaction."

Blake gave her a friendly smile and shook his head. "Fine. Wednesdays then?"

Alec nodded, determinedly. "Wednesdays."

She shut the door and stood for a moment on the sidewalk, watching as he drove off. As loathed as she was to admit it, it had been fairly decent of him to stop. If someone had asked her this morning what she thought Blake might do if she were walking home in the rain, she would have said drive on by. And now she felt a little ashamed for the presumption. Not only that, he'd seemed genuinely concerned over the idea of her, unaccompanied, walking across the Green. It wasn't green at all; it was a park that ran alongside a rough housing estate. It wasn't a particularly safe area, and although it cut time off her walk, Alex gripped the small can of mace she kept with her tightly from the minute her foot touched the concrete to the second she was back on an open street. Perhaps, she thought, turning towards the house, he wasn't that bad after all. Perhaps everything she'd seen in him up to this point was all a front. Alex quite liked that idea – that there was more to him. Maybe they could even learn to get along, she thought with a wry smile. For now, they'd take baby steps. If they could reach a point where she didn't feel like shaking them every time they were together, that would be a miracle.


	7. Terminal Velocity

_A/N: Hello! A little shorter, but it's our first glimpse of Alex's father. The chapter title is a physics term; __terminal velocity is when the gravity force upon an object is equal to that of the wind resistance. I chose it because at this stage, Blake and Alex are free falling towards becoming Hollins and the only thing that will stop them – is stopping them – is their own resistance._

_It made sense to me. Enjoy._

_Reuben._

Chapter Seven – Terminal Velocity 

"Dad, I'm home!" Alex called out, hanging the house keys on the rack by the door. She could smell something cooking, and knowing her father wasn't exactly the most accomplished of chefs, began to panic. Whenever he tried to cook, it usually ended in a disaster that she didn't have the time or energy to clear up this evening. She didn't need to be reminded of the carbonara incident. She threw her bag down at the bottom of the stairs and walked through to the living room in search of him, and found her father hovering by the window, looking out at where Blake's car had been.

"Hey Bug," he said absentmindedly, addressing her by the old nickname he usually called her before looking at her and jerking a thumb to the window. "You got a lift back with that guy again?" His face was mapped with an indistinguishable emotion.

"Yeah. It's Wednesday," Alex said flippantly, looking through the stack of mail on the coffee table that sat in the middle of the room.

"Yeah, but I would have come to get you," he replied, sitting on the couch. "You know I had the day off." His daughter glanced at her father, scanning his polo shirt and jeans, noticing oil marks on his hands. He'd been working on her truck again no doubt – the man would not give up and accept that perhaps it was time to sell it for scrap.

Alex shrugged. "I thought I'd save you the trouble, as Blake was already taking me," she added, smiling at her Dad. "Have you…er…got something in the oven?" she asked with concern, but trying not to sound so. Her father nodded proudly but cocked an eyebrow reproachfully.

"Don't panic – its oven pizzas and I put you a vegetable one in, cos I know that even though it is _necessary_ for your diet, a heavy amount of meat isn't balanced," he smirked, reciting his words back to her like a schoolboy. Or rather, her words. Alex grinned.

"Thanks Pa," she cooed, bombing onto the couch next to him and stretching out. It had been a tough rehearsal today; she wasn't feeling her best this week, but Blake was still firing on all cylinders and demanded the same from her. Well, that wasn't fair to say – she hadn't exactly told him she wasn't feeling well had she? Alex had no doubt in her mind that he would have let her take a break if she'd asked. But she hadn't asked. It was her own drive and belligerent pride that didn't permit her, or give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her give up. It wasn't fair to paint Blake as the dictator, when she knew he wasn't anymore.

At least not all the time.

Their 'friendship' had grown over the last few weeks, most likely due to the shared car rides every week; they still didn't hang out when they weren't at MSA, and they certainly didn't eat lunch together or any of the normal things they might do with their usual crowd. But in rehearsals, they were bouncing ideas of one another, and on a couple of occasions – more frequently now - they had even shared a joke. He could be quite light when he wanted to. When he actually relaxed that was.

She had found herself unwittingly telling him about her Mom, when he made a flippant remark about _her _picking her daughter up. His face had been a picture when she'd told him; his mouth gaping open awkwardly as he tried to back track, muttering apologies. She told him not to worry about it, but he'd been quiet for the rest of the day, obviously kicking himself for putting his foot in his mouth. Normally she'd shrug anyone off with a 'she died' but with Blake, she wouldn't have minded telling him, but he didn't pry into it. He listened so well at times, which was surprising, as when she tried to correct him on his extension on the arabesque, he seemed to ignore her quite pointedly.

Her Dad looked at her – he could see she was exhausted, but in the past seventeen years William Hale had learnt not to try and stop his daughter from dancing, even if looked like she was close to cracking. He didn't quite understand the fascination - all those 'chained turns' and 'albatrosses' or whatever – but he could appreciate it anyway. He knew dancers had to be strong, determined, and of course graceful, and his daughter was all those things in his opinion. But Alex was looking very tired these days, and from where he sat he could see the faint outline of dark lines under her eyes.

"You're not pushing yourself too hard are you?" William asked, his voice laced with concern. Alex laughed.

"Not at all. I just wasn't feeling great today but I didn't want to cancel or to stop Blake from rehearsing…"

"…and Blake again. Is _he_ working you too hard?" William said stiffly, sitting up.

Alex rose gingerly to her feet laughing to herself. "No – he didn't even know I wasn't feeling well because I didn't tell him…jeez, Dad, relax." He looked sceptical and then sighed at his defiant child; she stood before him with her hands on her hips and looking at him just as her mother would do when he was over reacting. Her could see very little of himself in her as she grew older.

"_Fine_," he said. "I trust you to know your own limits." He paused. "So, when am I going to get to meet this Blake guy?" Alex scoffed and left to go into the kitchen. William promptly followed her with a smile. "I mean, it's great seeing the back of his Mustang pull away every so often – I know he has good taste in cars – but if some guy's gonna be making out with my daughter…"

"_Dad!_ He's my dance partner, not my boyfriend," she laughed, shaking her head. "I don't have to introduce you! And we _certainly _have not, or ever will, _make out_," she added with an incredulous expression. Alex paused and pulled some juice from the fridge, pointing a finger at him "Have you been reading teen magazines again?"

"Absolutely not," William said raising his hands. "I was scarred the last time, and I made a promise not to for both of our sakes."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Good," she said simply, and began busying herself with making a salad. Pizza was all well and good, and she adored it but she needed some greenery on her plate. Her father pulled a newspaper across the breakfast bar, and perched himself on one of the stools, pretending to read while secretly scrutinising her.

"All I'm saying is," William continued, unable to bit his tongue, "you spend a lot of your spare time with this boy and I'm not stupid; I may not be able to turn on my feet Bug, but I know dancing can be emotional, and evoking, and most of all a girl in a leotard might be considered extremely hot by a teenage boy."

Alex glared at him, even though she found his protectiveness amusing. "Blake doesn't find me _hot_ and I can't believe you just came out with that."

William glanced at her. "I wouldn't be surprised if he did."

"Why did you have to say that?" Alex scolded. "Now it's going to be awkward when I see him again. Anyway, we're not spending our spare time together - we're _working_ and sharing the occasional car pool. It's a professional arrangement."

Her father sighed. "You forget; I was a teenager once, and your Mom was a gymnast. I know what leotards can do to a guy."

Alex didn't reply and sliced the cucumber instead.

"You know as a father I'm not sure I approve of the lack of modesty that comes as part of your ballet costumes…"

"Dad," she said snapping and pointing the knife at him. "Can it, ok? I don't want to hear about your cavorts with Mom! There is something very wrong with you. Don't you find it a little disturbing that you're talking about the effects of girls in leotards on a young man's body? It's highly inappropriate." Her Dad chuckled, and she laughed in spite of it all. "Blake Collins isn't my boyfriend. I don't even think you'd go so far as to call us _friends_. I don't actually know what you'd call us," Alex admitted with a frown. He father blinked as she ranted at him. "But whatever we are, he is most categorically not my boyfriend," she said finally.

"I know. You said," William grinned. "But you're awfully defensive about the subject." Alex stared at him and then, too quickly for William to react, she threw the end of the cucumber at his face, hitting him in the eye. He cried out, laughing.

"Your violence has cemented my point," William said getting up with his paper. "I'm leaving before you start chucking tomatoes."

"You're such a jerk," she muttered, shaking her head. Her Dad liked to rib her. He liked to rib everybody – he was a world class joker. But this wasn't funny, joking over the idea of her and Blake. So yes, she was touchy and defensive about it. Because it was utterly ridiculous.

William walked around the breakfast bar with a heavy sigh and kissed the top of his daughter's head. "I know."

XXXXX

"Before you go," Miss Trent called out over her History of Dance students, who were beginning to pack away. They all looked to her expectantly; it was just before lunch, and her interruption wasn't appreciated. She looked over her glasses at them all, and frowned as Blake Collins slung his bag across his shoulders.

"Thank you," she continued. "I'd like to talk to you about a project you're going to work on in pairs. At the end of term you can present back to the class. It's your choice who you work with," Miss Trent informed them, garnering 'woops' from some of the class who were tired of being sorted alphabetically. "Once you've picked your partner, then I'll assign you a topic for your presentation. It'll be on one of the styles of dance we're going to be covering over the next few lessons, so make sure you've made your choice by the time we next have class." The bell had sounded just as she spoke her last sentence, and they all rose simultaneously.

Alex walked glumly to the canteen. Trent couldn't have set it at a worse time. Usually, she'd work with Jane, but the redhead had been off school for a week with what looked like glandular fever. Who knew when she'd be back to work on a project?

She tried to put it out of her mind for the rest of the day, but she kept coming back to it. Maybe Trent would let her work by herself – she was more than capable. She was still pondering on it when she went to her rehearsal with Blake later that day, and was silent to a point that Blake finally folded his arms and frowned at her.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Hmmm?"

"You're really quiet."

"Oh! It's just Trent's assignment," she smiled. "It's bothering me."

"You're good at HOD aren't you?" Blake replied. "It's just a project. It's not even going towards our final grade. You'll breeze it."

"Yes, but Jane's sick isn't she? I have to ask Trent if she'll let me do it alone."

Blake rubbed his neck. "Isn't there someone else you can work with?"

She snorted and shook her head. Blake nodded thoughtfully before giving her a smile. "Well, I'm sure you'll work something out. Miss Trent is usually reasonable."

Alex pinched the bridge of her nose and laughed quietly to herself. "You're right," she sighed. "It just annoys me when the plans you would usually make go wrong. Shall we call it a night?" she asked, glancing at the clock. Blake nodded awkwardly in agreement. "Who are you working with?" she asked him, as they packed away their things. Blake froze and didn't reply for the moment before looking up at her with an uncomfortable expression.

"Er...no one," he admitted, pulling on his jacket.

Alex frowned. "What?"

"I was...er...going to ask Miss Trent if I could...do it alone," he muttered in a small voice, giving her a weak smile.

"Oh," was all Alex managed, wrapping a scarf around her neck slowly.

"You know," Blake started, running his fingers though his hair. "We _could_ work together." When Alex looked at him in surprise, he shrugged, though he was fairly surprised at himself. "Miss Trent will probably just suggest we work together anyway, if we both go to her and ask to work alone," he said casually. She still looked unsure – and he knew why. Partnering together, even if it was still within something trivial like the realms of a school project, threatened to shake the boundaries of their very carefully defined working relationship.

"We'd be doing each other a favour," he added.

"I don't really like the prospect of standing in front of everyone alone," Alex confessed. "I suppose it could work."

"You don't have to," Blake said rather quickly. "I mean if you'd rather wait for Jane, or work by yourself, or..."

"Blake," Alex laughed. "It's ok. Look," she said, waving her arms around as she explained. "I don't know when Jane will be back, and with our collective intellects I'm _sure_ we can come up with something pretty good. Not that I wouldn't do perfectly fine without you," she hastened to add. Blake smirked.

"No, of course not."

"I'll...talk to you tomorrow about it, ok?" Alex said distractedly, glancing out of the window and seeing her Dad had pulled up outside of the school. "Bye."

He blinked as she left the room, and picked up his own bag, feeling a strange knot in the pit of his stomach. What a disturbing turn of events. Practical as it was, working with Alex outside of dancing, even if it was still writing about it, seemed like it might in end in chaos. And things had been going so swimmingly between them, he thought, switching the lights off in the studio to save the janitor a job. He didn't want to do anything that might take them back to fighting like cat and dog. The only way was to see how it panned out, and he would have to be on his guard.


	8. You Can Choose Your Friends

_A/N: I rather shamefully set Blake and Alex up in the last chapter in perhaps a rather silly way. But I don't care. Especially since I get to put her in the awkward situation of meeting Momma Collins for the first time. _

Chapter Eight – You Can Choose Your Friends

Alex slammed the door to her Dad's car she had borrowed and looked up at the house. The Collins' residence was fairly legendary, mostly for who lived inside it; the truth was it was hardly out of the ordinary from any of the other buildings in the street. True, the lawn was a little neater, the house a little whiter, and there was a general touch of money to the property that couldn't be found in the other houses in these suburbs. But the 'mansion' she'd heard the kids at school talking about when she first arrived, and then the reality – well, they weren't exactly one and the same.

It was two stories, with what looked like an attic room making a third and although she couldn't see it, she knew these houses had a balcony that came off of the master bedroom around the back. Two columns of an off white held up the porch area, which was well lit by lights either side of the red door, and along the mahogany decking, a love seat sat outside the front. Her eyes fell onto the curtains – drawn, a dark green – and she could hear people laughing inside.

Alex made her way up to the steps juggling her own bag and the folders in her arms and wondered what on earth she was doing at Blake's house. This was supposed to be purely professional, and though studying still came under that heading, she had to marvel at why she'd agreed to even go within three metres of his house. She could have waited until Monday, and then they could have studied at school. Instead, she was giving up her Friday evening to hang out with Blake Collins.

It was laughable, that's what it was.

The school library was an impossible place to get any work done – the librarian had little control over the students who insisted on treating it as an extension of the quad or the common room. Classrooms were a little better, when they weren't occupied. They'd come to the joint conclusion that it might be better to do it outside of school, and when Blake had suggested his house, Alex had been hesitant.

Lifting her hand to knock on the door, she spotted a doorbell, and pressed that instead. The murmurs of people stopped, she heard the sound of someone running and seconds later, the light from inside spilled across her as Chase opened the door, with some difficulty.

"Oh, it's you," Chase said, beaming and putting himself in front of the door to prop it open, as if he were a child sized door stop. He twisted on the spot, squirming a little. "What are you doing here?"

"Who is it Chase?" someone called out, a woman with a clear, well bred voice. "You know I don't like you opening the door, sweetie."

"It's Alex!" Chase screamed back, lisping still as his words whistled through the gaps in his mouth. "She's Blake's friend."

There was a pause and a murmur between some people in a room she couldn't see, and a woman strolled through and made her way to the door. She was around average height, in her early forties as far as Alex could tell with bobbed caramel blonde hair that curled gently at the bottom. She was dressed in a tan turtleneck, and dark trousers, and Alex couldn't help but notice the pearls around her neck and the diamond studs in her ears. The woman raised an eyebrow and regarded Alex shrewdly, though her mouth (painted with a light pink lipstick) was curved upwards in a curious smile.

"I'm sorry," she asked Alex politely, in a melodic tone, "Can I help you?"

Realising who she was, Alex felt strangely paralysed in the woman's presence; this was Frances Collins, not only Blake's mother but one of the greatest female dancers in history and a co-founder of MSA. She was a legend, and Alex was standing on her porch with her mouth hanging open.

Alex regained her composure quickly; she was in awe but she was not the sort of person to get star struck. "I'm Alexandra Hale," she replied smoothly, sticking out her hand to Francis. "You must be Mrs. Collins."

"I am," Francis smiled. "I presume you're a student. You look a little young to be a door to door saleswoman," she said wryly, scanning Alex's frame. "Are you here to see my son?" Chase grinned widely at Alex. "My _oldest_ son," Frances confirmed, patting the top of Chase's head.

Alex nodded. "Blake and I are working on a school project together."

"Oh! You're _Alex_," she smiled, stretching out her name like toffee. "Blake's dance partner. I'm so sorry – it didn't register when you told me your name."

"That's ok."

"By all means," Francis said, stepping aside and gesturing to the foyer, "Please come in."

Alex stepped inside slowly, being very careful to wipe her boots on the mat and tried not to look like she was a tourist in a celebrity's home. They were hardly royalty, but in terms of the dancing world, they were renowned. Especially within the realms of MSA; Blake wasn't popular for his personality - that was for certain. Nor, Alex thought as she remembered his scowls when people crowded him to talk, did he want to be.

Taking in the room, she noticed the wooden floors, and the cream walls were lined with photographs, mostly black and white, of the two children, their parents, family portraits and then other famous dancers. She recognised one of Isadora Duncan immediately – she had the same one in her room, though it was only a poster.

Francis shut the door behind her and laid a hand on Chase's head. "So you two have already met each other?" she asked slowly, giving Alex a scrutinising look that made the younger girl stand up quite straight. She'd suddenly become very conscious of her posture under the older woman's eyes.

Chase grinned at his mother and carried on twisting his body and swinging his arms. It seemed the boy had tremendous difficulty being still. "Yeah, Alex was in the car when Blake picked me up from dance," he explained. "She saw my blue tongue."

"Is that so?" Francis stepping away from her wriggling son, so that the boy could shoot across the small vestibule and into the living room, and the sound of Chase throwing himself into a couch made his mother shake her head. She returned her gaze to Alex.

"You're a dancer at MSA then?" she asked, fiddling with the string of pearls round her neck.

"Yes," Alex replied proudly. "I'm a junior."

Francis nodded, with a kind expression. Alex came to realise everything about her stance, and the way she held her chin made her seem much bigger than she actually was, but up close Alex saw she was a good few inches above the woman, and thinner.

"I can tell," Francis said. "You have the look."

"Well, I'd expect you to recognise a dancer when you saw one, ma'am," Alex said politely. Francis seemed to take her words and mull over them briefly before nodding with a quaint expression. She glanced up the stairs.

"My son's in his room - you can take your shoes off," she offered, looking at Alex's Converse. The young girl nodded gratefully and pulled them off, laying them by the door. She wished now, seeing how she was being judged so closely, she'd made some kind of effort. Francis was still looking at her, seemingly evaluating the sweater, the jeans, the dark hair hanging loose. Finally she laid a hand on Alex's back and led her towards the living room, though they didn't go in.

"Blake told me all about you when found a partner. He's a good dancer isn't he? He tells me you're very good too. How are you finding it? Working with him I mean," Francis said quickly, and quite quietly, in the same melodic tones she had been using the whole time. Alex raised an eyebrow and shifted the files in her arms. She wasn't sure which question to answer. "I know he can be a little…difficult," Frances continued, "but he's…"

Before she could continue, Blake appeared at the top of the stairs and came down them slowly; he was frowning at his mother, and then at Alex, with the same thunderous brow she was used to.

"I thought I heard voices," he said stopping on the final step so he stood above them, and crossed his arms. "Why didn't you say Alex was here?"

"Because I was having a discussion with your friend," Francis said firmly to her son. "Which you have interrupted. I'm sorry Alex," she said sweetly, turning attention to Alex again. "You were saying."

"I...I enjoy dancing with Blake, and yes, he's very accomplished," Alex said clearly, tightening her grip on the folders and willing herself not to go red. "But we've not been partners very long…"

"...Long enough," Blake muttered with a smirk, but his mother heard it and gave him a reproachful look. "Alex knows I'm not being serious," he added, looking at her as if to confirm it. She rolled her eyes at his half hearted jibe, but she felt a wave of relief wash over her as Frances intense attentions seemed to dwindle.

"The dining room has been cleared of all the party decorations now, so you two are free to use that area to study, or there's the office," Francis explained. "Can I get you a drink Alex? I doubt my son will ask you; he's in _training_ to be a better host, but he doesn't have a lot of guests to practice," she added in a stage whisper, as Blake clenched his jaw and glared at her. Alex shook her head.

"I'm not thirsty, thank you."

"I swear to you I am working on his manners, but he gets his foul temperament from his father I'm afraid," she sighed.

"Mom," Blake scowled. "My manners are just fine."

"I heard that," came a gruff voice from where Chase had disappeared to. "And I have a very gentle disposition."

A man appeared in the doorway; a tall, broad man with the obvious stature of a dancer, Clive Collins stood with his hands on his hips and stared hard at his wife. He was a good looking man, and it was clear his sons already took after him, though the softer features of their mother stopped the Collins boys from looking as harsh as their father. If he had not been a dancer, Alex would have placed him either as an army major, or a labourer - any profession that produced men that looked as if they could break bricks upon their forehead.

"What's this then?" he asked looking at Alex. "The new girlfriend?"

"Er…" Alex started, with a nervous laugh.

"Clive!" Francis cried.

"Dad!" Blake growled.

The man didn't apologise but instead stuck his hand out to the newcomer in his house. "I'm Clive Collins. Alex Hale right?"

Alex nodded and shook his hand, swallowing the lump in her throat. His parents seemed to be collaborating to irritate Blake to the point of breaking.

"I've heard good things about you from Director Franklin – he's a good friend of ours." Alex nodded again, blushing a little under the praise. Of course he was. Most of the people in the school were only there on approval from the Collins'. But as she went to answer, she noticed he wasn't looking at her face anymore; Clive seemed to be scrutinising her figure, and comparing hers to Blake's. Sure enough, he moved around to get a better look, causing her to flush crimson and grip her folders even tighter.

"You're a good height and build," he said finally, satisfied. "How long have you been dancing?"

"Since I was about six."

Clive nodded thoughtfully. Blake was rigid, with crossed arms, looking as he wanted nothing better for them all to disappear, her included. "What's your diet like?" Clive said stiffly, folding his arms. Alex's mouth opened to answer, but Blake cut in.

"That's enough, Dad," he hissed. "You don't need to quiz her on her _diet._"

Clive inhaled a deep breath. "No I suppose not. Run along and study then. It's good to see that you're devoting as much time to your academic studies as I know you both do to your dance. We'll let you get on," Mr. Collins added in a stern voice, and returned to the living room, followed by his wife.

"Dining room?" Alex asked Blake, knowing her cheeks had coloured and she could do nothing about it. He nodded silently and stepped down to show her where it was. He walked across the foyer and led her down a passageway, gesturing her through an open door where a large wooden table stood in the centre. It followed the same vein of décor as the rest of the house, fairly neutral with a slightly Victorian feel – the walls were a rich burgundy and the architrave was the same off white of the pillars outside.

"Your parents seem nice," she said, of way of conversation as she sat down at the table and he shut the door. He walked across the room, sat down beside her, moving the chair away a little, and slid the file she had brought across the varnished wood to take a look at.

"You don't have to pretend that wasn't extremely awkward for everyone involved," he muttered.

"Well, it was a little intense."

"They don't really know how to interact with people on a normal conversational level I'm afraid. Put them in front of a bunch of benefactors, and they can schmooze the night away, but ask them to treat someone like a human being and they struggle," he said wryly. "We should have done this at school – to save you the embarrassment. I can't believe my Dad…"

"It's not an issue," Alex smiled, pulling her notebook out of her bag. "You should meet my Dad. At least your parents know what a plié is. My Dad just nods and agrees. He would have already drawn you into a discussion about the Red Sox, judged you on whether you supported them or not and shown you his coin collection."

To her surprise, Blake smiled weakly and rubbed his eyes. "That'd be a welcome alternative. There's a certain pressure from having two parents heavily involved in dance. There's not a lot of room for failure, and it's a prominent conversation topic…" he trailed off and stared ahead somewhere. He seemed to have paused, realising he'd said a little more than he'd intended, and now wanted to keep silent. "They're good people, and they want the best for me," he said finally.

"I can see that," Alex replied quietly.

"And for the record, this is a Baltimore Orioles house," he added in a whisper, "So don't mention the Red Sox's in front of my Dad."

Alex laughed unexpectedly at his joke, and he smiled at her.

"Right," Blake said in a determined voice, slapping his thighs, "let's get on with History of Dance."

Despite her concerns, Blake was quiet and studious for the couple of hours they worked together; she didn't feel the brunt of his anger towards his parent's actions once, and on a couple of occasions he was close to being complimentary towards her. They even laughed which was as far away from their initial bickering as they could be. She wondered if it was because she had caught a glimpse of him that he couldn't have controlled or hidden. Thinking about it, asking her to come to his house was a step closer to an almost understanding between them, perhaps a friendship. When she rose to leave, he was in a good mood, if not a little tired, and he went to show her out.

"I guess I'll see you on Monday," Blake said stiffly, standing at the door way. Alex was checking her watch, and looked up at him as she spoke.

"Sure – it's a rehearsal day right?"

Before Blake could open his mouth, his parents appeared at the doorway behind him. "You're going Alex?" his mother said with a smile.

"Yes, I should get back. It was nice to meet you Mr and Mrs. Collins."

Clive nodded in agreement. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of you around." Blake turned his head slowly and stared intently at his father with a menacing gaze.

"What?" the man said innocently. "She's your partner."

Blake looked back at Alex with a weary expression. "Goodbye," he said firmly. Alex nodded with a smile and headed to the car as he shut the door. It was cooler now, and she was grateful for the sweater she was wearing. Throwing the files in the back, and clambering in the front of the Dodge, she paused before she turned the key in the ignition. The thought hit her with a degree of shock, but thinking about it, she had really enjoyed Blake's company that evening, and as Clive's words rung in her ears as she pulled away, she realised that she wouldn't mind doing it more often.


	9. Food For Thought

Chapter Nine – Food For Thought

Alex sighed loudly as she wrote down an order and handed it to the girl who was hovering beside her. "Two rump steaks, both medium, and a side of onion rings," she read to her. The girl – a doe eyed little thing that had only been working there a month or so – nodded and headed to the kitchen. Alex sighed again and blew upwards, making her fringe move. The room was hot, undoubtedly because it was filled with the noise and closeness of lots of bodies, all talking at once, eating, and clanging their metal cutlery on their plates. The restaurant she worked at was popular and renowned within Maryland for its "Saturday Stack of Sticky" Meal – or 'Triple S' to the staff that worked there called it – and tonight was heaving with customers who had come for that very dish. They'd sent out twenty five already and it was only eight o'clock. The plate of meats, all drenched in a homemade sticky BBQ sauce, turned Alex's stomach and she was almost relieved when someone didn't order it.

She'd been working there for over a year and a half, working her way up from dishwasher to one of the head waitresses – a position that was just below the manager. A lot of the girls tended to look up to her, as not many people stuck the job out; it was hard work, and certainly not glamorous at first, so lasting as long as she did was nothing shorted of admirable.

The restaurant itself – Gutsy Pete's - was a one off, family run business in the centre of Maryland that had been there as far back as Alex could remember, and she'd lived in Baltimore since she was three years old. On the outside it looked fairly plain; the brick walls and large parking lot gave no clue of the interior, though the bright neon sign above the doorway did something for the charm. Inside was a different matter. It was large, and there were tiny alcoves all around where you could easily tuck yourself into, away from others. Similarly there were booths and tables in the open, and tonight a birthday party of prepubescent children were laughing and singing on a row of tables in the centre of the main floor space. The walls, and this was Alex's favourite part, were covered in memorabilia; baseball, movie posters, even dancers – all areas of culture and sport combining to showcase the best history had to offer. It was gaudy, yet charming.

It was exactly the sort of place she loved, and it was exactly the sort of place everyone at MSA hated.

No one she knew at the school knew she worked there apart from Jane who sometimes washed up, but she often heard the richer kids belittling the place. She wasn't ashamed; in fact she'd been honoured to be taken on. Peter Kinski, the man who owned it, mostly hired his own family members to give a close knit atmosphere, but he'd gradually given other people a chance, and Alex had been one of the first. But while she wasn't desperate to fit in with her peers at school, she wasn't particularly enamoured with the idea of making herself a sitting duck for their taunting.

"Alex," Frankie Holland, a blonde haired waitress who liked to chew gum called out, "Janette says to tell you there's no more of the special ribs."

Alex scrawled it down on the shortages list and nodded. "Thanks Frankie – what's it like in there?" She was referring to the kitchen which, in comparison to the sweaty heat of the eating area, could feel like a fiery furnace, and one of the chefs, Antonio, was known for his terrible temperament, making it an even more heated. On more than one occasion, there'd had been incidents where kitchen utensils and equipment had flown across the room at high speed, leaving the poor waitress on the receiving end very little time to duck or flit out of the way. Alex had gotten quite good at it, and once she had picked the cheese grater and thrown it back, much to the Italian's surprise. It all made for a difficult environment.

Frankie shrugged and huffed. "It's warm in there naturally but everyone's keeping their heads down. No fights yet, touchwood," the girl joked, showing two fingers crossed and heading back inside the kitchen area through a white swing door. Alex laughed to herself, and turned her attention back to a group of customers heading towards her.

"Hi, excuse me," said the woman who leant forward on the desk with a sheepish grin. "We know you're busy and we haven't booked, but I was wondering if you've got a table for four." She had a distinctly Southern drawl – clearly not from around here – but her smile was genuine and her eyes earnest. The two young boys and their father looked hopeful, and Alex didn't feel like breaking any children's hearts tonight. Trying hard not to look at the woman's sweater (adorned with a large cartoon owl), and glancing at the seating plans, she smiled. There were a few tables still to come but they were only a four, and a lot of her sector wasn't filled. She had gotten good at knowing what numbers the kitchen staff could handle and what they couldn't.

"We have room but just to let you know there could be a wait," she explained, glancing down the names. "I'll set you up on Table nineteen...it's quieter in that area," she said over the noise. "Follow me," she added with a big smile, her best waitress face, and manoeuvred out from behind the desk area and gesturing for the woman and her family to follow her.

Alex got them set up comfortably, took their drinks order and headed to the bar. Moira Kinski, Peter's wife and one of the funniest people Alex knew, was taking the bottle cap off of a beer for a customer with a nonchalant flair that she had mastered after years of bar tending. The women, who had a hair of dishevelled curls, dyed a faded red, and a glistening nose stud, glanced at Alex with a crooked grin and looked at the paper pad in Alex's hand.

"That for me?" she asked.

"Yes," Alex smiled. "Two diet cokes, no ice, no lemon, a Bud, and an orange juice and lemonade. Please," she added gratefully. The woman got straight to work. Moira tended to run the people side of things at Gutsy Pete's – Peter was adverse to the general public, and spent most of his time in the upstairs apartment, looking over the books and doing the staff wage slips. He was a nice guy, very amicable, but painfully shy and he only braved the public when it was necessary, such as the Annual Gutsy Pete's Maryland Bonanza, which was a huge fair each year that thousands of the city's inhabitants came to. Moira, now she was more adapted to people; friendly, funny and she didn't suffer fools gladly.

"Remind me what area you're working tonight?" Moira asked, putting the drinks on a tray. Each waitress had a set of tables she would serve that evening. Some areas were easier than others and that was why they rotated.

"The ninth," Alex said, taking the tray but not before sliding her pen into her bun where she knew it would stay.

"Well, you have a booking coming in five minutes, so be here to greet them," Moira reminded her, looking at the books. Alex nodded and took the drinks to her table.

XXXXX

Five minutes later and having braved the kitchen and Antonio's wrath as she took an order to them, she was out front again, handling bills. Time seemed to drag at work, and though it had felt like half an hour had passed, she knew it hadn't. Seeing the door open out of the corner of her eye, she headed to the front desk with a fresh smile.

"Good evening, and welcome to Gutsy Pete's," she started, glancing up at the first member or the party; a small child with his hands on the edge of the desk as he tried to pull his tiny face up to look at her. He was grinning wildly and jumping.

"Alex! Alex! Alex!" Chase cried out excitedly. "You work here? That is so cool! Now you can be at my birthday party!"

Alex swallowed hard, trying to smile. If Chase was here, that meant...

Sure enough, there he was, glowering behind his parents, hands in the pockets of his jeans and looking very out of place. He spotted her and seemed to pause with a confused frown before looking at the restaurant and not saying a word. It was definitely him, and not some apparition due to stress. Blake Collins, at Gutsy Pete's. This must be the only junk food intake he was going to have all year, and she was going to witness it.

On the other hand, she was going to have to pander to his every whim for the next two hours or so.

"Hi...Chase...Mr and Mrs Collins...Blake," she added, barely glancing at him though she could see his shocked look out of the corner of her eye. "Birthday party huh?"

"Yes. Chase wanted to come here to celebrate, so here we are," Frances smiled, although he smiled was a little strained. Alex nodded, understanding. This was not the sort of place Frances would have chosen, given the choice. Her eldest son seemed to share that discomfort. Or perhaps he didn't enjoy eating out.

"Blake never mentioned you worked here," Clive said with a slight frown.

"Blake didn't know," his son murmured, looking to his dance partner with an inquisitive expression.

"Well, I'll be your server for the evening," Alex said briskly, taking some menus and avoiding it the discussion. "If you'd like to follow me, I'll take you to your table."

They all followed her through the myriad of people – Chase rabbiting excitedly about what presents he'd gotten and what school had been like. By the time they'd made it to the table and each of the Collins was taking their seat, Alex knew that Chase had gotten a new dance bag, a cassette player, a cassette tape of good songs to practice his ballet to, some clothes, a packet of gum from Sammi Andrews in his class, and he'd gotten to be in charge of the recess milk trolley.

Handing out the menus and taking their drinks order, Alex smiled and said she'd give them time to make up their mind (though she didn't know what they'd be interested in – it was diner food, and they would probably have a coronary just from looking over what they had to offer) and headed back to the bar.

"Who is _that_?" Frankie asked as she wrote out someone's bill for them. She was looking at the Blake. Alex followed her gaze and frowned.

"Oh that's Blake Collins – he goes to my school," she replied. Frankie and the rest of the girls that worked there went to a local high school. _ Normal school_ as they called it, which was true enough.

"Is he single?" the blonde girl asked looking again.

"Yeah," Alex snorted. "He's my dance partner."

"What? He's in your sector, _and_ you get to dance with him?" Frankie sighed. "You get all the luck."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew him."

Frankie looked at her dubiously, tapping her pen on the pad. "I dunno. He's seriously hot."

"Yeah, but he's also an asshole sometimes," Alex laughed quietly as she prepared to head back with the drinks.

"I could put up with it," Frankie sighed. "Could you, Kelly?" she asked another waitress who was meandering behind the bar, doing odd jobs. Kelly was an older girl, and related to Moira somehow.

"Could I what?" she repeated in a bored voice.

"Alex here says that older guy on table fourteen is a bit of an ass, but I said I could put up with it, for a face like that." Kelly took an inconspicuous look at Blake – who was listening to Chase talk about something - and let out a low whistle.

"I'll say. He could be Mussolini."

Alex groaned and rolled her eyes. "You guys are deplorable. Stop mooning over him; he's not a piece of meat. Besides, he's not that good looking."

The girls stared at her.

"Well, he's a _little_ good looking, obviously," Alex admitted.

"I think someone's in denial," Frankie crooned, pinching Alex's cheek and walking away before the girl could object. Kelly shrugged, pulled the full bag of trash out of the garbage can and walked away as she tied a knot in it. Alex frowned and picked up the tray. She was not in denial.

"Here we are," she said a little too cheerily as she put the tray down. "Three orange juices and a chocolate milkshake," she smiled, winking at the small child.

"Oh boy!" Chase gushed, pulling the tall glass towards him and taking a big sip with the straw. He gasped as he finished and looked up at his waitress.

"I forgot to say! There's a new film coming out called Jumanji, and Mom said maybe I can go see it," Chase said shuffling on the leather seat of the booth.

"I'd like to see that, it's supposed to be very funny," Alex said, bent over to speak to him. "A little scary though."

"You want to see it too? Maybe Blake could take you," Chase commented innocently. Blake coughed as he took a sip of his drink and ended up spluttering as if the drink had gone down the wrong hole. He glowered at his brother, and Clive shook his head.

"Out of the mouths of babes," he muttered. Frances nudged him.

"Clive..."

"Are you ready to order?" Alex asked very quickly, and in a voice far too high.

"I'll have the Buckle Buster Cheeseburger," Chase said first, still lisping.

Alex jotted it down. "Wow, you think you'll manage all that?"

"Chase is a bottomless pit," Blake said dryly, barely smiling.

"And Clive and I will both have the...Ivy League Fillet Steaks, both medium rare please," Francis said kindly. "And instead of onion rings and fries with ours, can we have a Caesar salad? Obviously no chicken," the woman added, looking over her glasses. "And not too much dressing, if at all possible.

"That's fine, no problem," Alex said, making note of it clearly and finally, she glanced at Blake, acknowledging his presence. "What can I get you?"

"I'm not that hungry..." he started, looking at the menu with a frown. Chase sat up on his knees and pulled on Alex's arm, ignoring his mother's hissed 'sit down!'

"Blake will have a Buckle Buster Cheeseburger too Alex," Chase said quickly. Alex raised an eyebrow and looked at each of their faces.

"He will?" she said slowly, very unsure.

"Yeah! Yeah! Blake has to do as I say because it's my birthday. It's a Collins family rule." Chase looked very mischievous as he explained it. "That's why we came here. That's why Dad had to make pancakes today. And that's why Blake is going to have a Buckle Buster Cheeseburger."

"Is that so?" Alex laughed, looking at Blake as if for confirmation. The boy sighed and nodded.

"Yes. I'll be having the...Buckle Buster Cheeseburger," he said unsurely as he looked over the menu.

"With extra pickles!"

"Chase," Blake hissed at his brother's exclamation. "I _hate _pickles. You're the one that likes pickle. You always take mine."

The young boy blinked at him with such a quiet defiance that Blake seemed to grit his teeth and close his eyes slowly. "Extra pickle," he added quietly and begrudgingly.

Alex nodded, not writing that part down to try and save Blake some discomfort, jotted down the rest of the order and assured them it wouldn't be long. Brushing past several waitresses waiting at the till to sort out their table's bills, she headed into the kitchen. Hot, sticky, and even noisier than out the front, Alex immediately felt woozy and longed for the open restaurant. Janette, one of the chefs who worked there, glanced at her and the slip in her hand.

"Alright then," she said, in a New York twang, "Wotcha got for me?"

XXXXX

Blake wandered over to the bar, where Alex was working, writing something out and concentrating so hard she didn't notice him approaching her. When he did put his forearms across the bar and cleared his throat, her face shot up. She looked at him with a weak smile, once she'd realised who it was.

"Can I get you something?" she asked. She was doing pretty well at the whole waitress thing, he had to admit; she hadn't crossed any boundaries just because she knew him. He had no doubt she was treating them the same as she would any table - politely and efficiently. She looked very different tonight, but then Blake supposed they were mostly used to seeing each other in dance gear, as opposed to casual clothes, or the uniform she was wearing now. She'd still got her hair tied back in an askew bun, with tendrils hanging loose either side, as she always did. The only marked difference was the pen she had sticking out of it, which he'd seen her pull out as she'd served other tables.

"A refill of chocolate milkshake for the stomach with legs," he said, glancing at Chase. "He drank it all before the burger came and now he's thirsty."

Alex smiled, pulling a milkshake glass from the shelf and placing it under the machine. "That's usually the way with kids."

"Hmmm, yes. And Chase has gluttony down to an art." Blake paused thoughtfully. "So...you didn't mention you worked here."

Alex shrugged. "I didn't think to. Is it a big deal?"

"No, no. Of course not," Blake said, though he wasn't sure what it had to do with him. In fact, in some bizarre twist of fate, having Alex there had made the evening a little more bearable. He didn't enjoy going out with his parents - what seventeen year old boy did - but Alex understood Chase well, and could make the boy laugh, and although he knew full well Frances and Clive would have probably preferred a quiet night in, even they seemed to have relaxed with a waitress they knew. His Mom hadn't stopped raving about her since she'd been over – about how nice it was that Blake had a partner who was serious about dance as opposed to some of the 'wishy washy pathetic excuses for prima's that hovered around him'. His Dad seemed excited a girl had paid him any sort of attention.

He had to keep checking himself; she wasn't under scrutiny for a potential girlfriend – they were partners.

Alex produced the milkshake, which now had cream on top, with a flourish and grinned. "There you go. I'll add it to the bill," she told him as he went to pull some dollars from his pocket. "And what about you? Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Well, it's going well. Chase has a history of indecent exposure in public places, but I guess the night is still young," Blake said dryly. To his surprise Alex laughed, and he had to smile too.

"How's the burger?" she asked, moving a salt shaker that sat on the bar absent mindedly.

Her eyes were teasing so he raised an eyebrow and looked at her as if to say 'what do you think?'

"I'm sure it's one of your signature dishes," he assured her. "But I'm not really a burger man."

"No, I'd have put you down as a salmon kind of guy but it's nice that you would do that for Chase."

He shrugged. "You heard him. Tradition. And...thanks for leaving out the pickles," he added softly. He paused and leaned a little closer to her. "Would you do me a favour though?"

"Sure," Alex replied instantly, feeling the curiosity rise in her chest. He smiled weakly again - he had known she wouldn't begrudge him.

"Whatever Chase orders for dessert, would you mind sticking a candle in it or something?" he asked, looking a little weary.

"I would have anyway – it's something we do here if it's a birthday," she said with a frown, glancing at Chase. "Do you mind if I ask why he doesn't have a cake? Or do you have one? Because, you know, plenty of people bring their cakes here - I'll take it out to the kitchen..."

He raised a hand to stop her. "I don't have a cake. Do you honestly think my parents would allow pancakes for breakfast, then burgers and cake in one night? He's lucky he's getting an ice cream. This is the one day of the year he gets to eat exactly what he wants," Blake explained in a low voice, "and he's still not allowed a slice of cake. He'll be straight back on his nutrition plan tomorrow." He seemed slightly bitter in Alex's eyes, but he blinked and any resentment seemed to dwindle.

"Then why is he even allowed dessert?" Alex asked with a frown.

"Dessert is one plate, and a cake is several," Blake said, checking to see what his parents were doing. "Too much temptation for us." His tone was blank and matter of fact. That was the norm in the Collins house; if you wanted to be a great dancer you had to make sacrifices. And Frances and Clive wanted Chase and Blake to be great. "Cake and ice cream are not conducive with strong and healthy dancers."

"Ah," Alex nodded.

"So, do you think you could do that?" he asked again very quietly, and suddenly Alex became very aware that she wasn't the only person behind the bar. Frankie stood to her left, pouring a beer, and eyeing her curiously. For a brief moment it had felt as if it were only her and Blake in the entire restaurant.

"Of course," she said finally, looking away. "Er, yeah. You'd better take this," she added, gesturing to the milkshake.

"Oh. Ok. Thanks. I'll...speak to you later," he said, looking Frankie who was staring at them, and turning on his heels, he headed back to the table. Alex exhaled quietly, knowing she had work to do but finding it a little difficult to pull her gaze and her focus from Blake Collins. He was a lot deeper, and certainly more troubled than she'd ever realised.

"Earth to Alex," Frankie hissed in her ear, making Alex bat her away. "Oh...he's just my dance partner...he's a real asshole...blah blah blah," the girl teased, mimicking Alex. "You could have said if you just wanted him to yourself."

"I..." Alex started, but checked herself, knowing she was blushing. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Come on girl," Frankie pleaded. "You can tell me..."

Alex paused and adopted her waitress smile. "I have a work to do, excuse me," she simply said, brushing past an exasperated Frankie and headed to the kitchen.

XXXXX

"Thank you so much for this evening Alex," Frances said taking the girl's hand and clasping it between her own, as they were leaving. "Against all odds, I've had a wonderful night."

Alex wasn't sure how to responded, but laughed nervously. "That's...ok – as long as Chase had a good time." She looked at him but he was dead on his feet, with none of his usual vigour as he clung onto his brother with his thumb in his mouth. Blake sighed and picked him up, resting him on his hip and letting his brother bury is head into his shoulder.

"And the candle in his dessert was such a nice touch," Frances cooed. Alex smiled, exchanging a glance with Blake.

"Actually that was..."

"A very kind thought," Blake interrupted. "Mom, Dad, we need to get him home. He's exhausted." And sure enough, soft snores could be heard from the boy.

His parents nodded, and Alex noted, not for the first time, that Blake seemed to have a handle of authority over everyone in his life. "We'll get the car if you want to stay here in the warm," Clive said to his son. Blake nodded, and watched as his parents said their final goodbyes to Alex and pushed the door open to the restaurant to leave.

"Oh Alex," Frances said, as if suddenly remembering. "Our house is open to you – come any time you feel like."

Alex blinked and smiled, nodding politely. Frances seemed pleased with herself and with that, left. Alex let out a low whistle and smiled at Blake.

"Well, you got the Frances Collins seal of approval," Blake said quietly, as his mouth was to Chase's sleeping head. "And that's not easy to obtain. You must have done something right in your short acquaintance."

"I don't think I deserve it – why did you make out it was my idea with the candle?" she frowned. The restaurant was slowing down – only a few tables were left – and she didn't feel as if she had to rush away. He shrugged carefully.

"You said you would have done it anyway," he said dismissively. "Besides, with my Mom, you need all the help you can get. I figure our little arrangement has left its trial period and I'll be dancing with you for the long run, so, it helps to have my mother on your side. I'd hate for her to suddenly disapprove when I've made up my mind to stick with you." Alex opened her mouth speak but found words failed and instead she smiled lamely.

"If you're ok with that," he added, with a slight smirk. She shrugged.

"It works for me. I'm too lazy to find another partner now," she sighed.

Blake looked at her reproachfully. "Yeah. Right. I'll...see you Monday," he said finally looking out the glass doors and seeing the headlights of his parent's car. "Take care."

"And you," she found herself saying dumbly. She watched him put the boy in the car, and then climb in himself, staring after the car as it drove away. She frowned to herself as she finalised some of the remaining tables' bills and drummed the pen on the pad. Alex was troubled, and couldn't explain why. But something deep within her was unsettled to the point of which she got on with her final jobs in a strange sort of daze, and even on drove home. It wasn't until she climbed into bed, and pulled the sheets over her and really forced herself to think about it, that she realised that it had been Blake. She had misjudged him; he wasn't the man she thought he was.

And, Alex thought smiling as she turned to look at the ceiling, she found herself quite liking him.


	10. I Scream, You Scream

Chapter Ten – I Scream, You Scream

"OK class," Mrs. Flora Linley said loudly above the noise of her History of Dance class. A delicious bunch of reprobates with a few dedicated scholars, she dreaded having to cover first period on a Monday. The funny thing about dance students was that although a lot of them were fantastic performers, they certainly had no stamina when it came to _real _learning. And when it came to choosing your electives, History of Dance was usually considered a class in which to goof around. Sadly for those select few, there had been a clamp down recently, and the curriculum had been changed – so those who hadn't intended to learn found themselves being forced to. But of course there were ten or so students who worked hard and had actually picked the subject through choice, and so Mrs. Linley tried to teach the class for them.

Though on a couple of occasions she had considered suicide.

"Sit down Mr. Reynolds," she said to a boy who was leaning against the wall at the back of the class. Her eyes scanned the room for others doing things they shouldn't – surprisingly no one had their cassette players out this week, and it didn't look like anyone was chewing gum. Alexandra Hale's seat was empty which _was _unusual; the girl wasn't often absent, if ever, but there had been a bug going round and so Flora wondered if the girl had fallen ill. After all, no one was invincible. There was no sense in fretting about the well behaved students, however, when there were several ill mannered ones, scaling the walls under her nose.

"Mr. Jenkins, if you don't turn around and stop bothering Miss Munroe, I will have to send you to Director Franklin's office and I doubt Jane wants you breathing all over her." The boy, who had shocking blonde hair, sighed and sat down in his seat, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his sweat pants.

Blake turned his head discreetly from where he sat – the front row, but the furthest from the door – to see what the rest of class were doing. Jane, who he had a little contact with because of Alex, was looking deeply harassed and tossed her red hair back with a disgusted face. She'd only been back five minutes and already she was being pestered. Jenkins and Reynolds were amongst some of the worst behaved pupils in the class, and the school, but all they boiled down to were snivelling attention seeking juvenile delinquents with an average talent for dance. It annoyed him how Mrs. Linley seemed incapable of controlling them, letting them get away with murder. As soon as they heard Mrs. Trent wasn't in, and Linley was covering, they started wreaking merry havoc.

The seating system was alphabetical in History of Dance, so he was fortunate enough to not be sat amongst them all. As it happened, it had worked out that Alex was two rows across at the front also, right in front of Mrs. Linley's desk, and Jane was four seats back from her friend. Alex had the misfortune of David Reynolds on her right; a persistent moron with a crew cut who enjoyed flirting with her. It was completely one sided of course, but it was still disturbing to watch. His best friend, Kevin Jenkins, was infatuated with Jane. He had heard them refer to themselves as 'The Hunters' on more than one occasion, which was nothing short of ironic as the only thing they could catch was a cold. The entire female populace regarded them as wastes of space, and Blake had to admit, they were not wrong. But it was something else that caught his eye.

Alex's seat was empty.

He immediately felt his brow furrow. Where was she? They were meant to be rehearsing tonight. Perhaps she was unwell, he thought, with a twinge of concern. But that didn't sit right; Alex had excellent attendance, and what seemed like a cast iron constitution. Blake turned to catch Jane's eye and she seemed to understand his meaning, shrugging and raising her arms as if to say "_I have no idea_". He folded his arms and nestled in his chair; after all her fuss about him not bothering to let her know he wouldn't be able to make it, she had better of tried to contact him.

He didn't know what had happened since Chase's birthday, but there had been a shift within the way she treated him; conversations between them had been open and jokey, she teased him less and less and when she did, it wasn't with that snide undertone that made him think perhaps she wasn't joking after all. She seemed to have completely relaxed in his presence, and become more familiar. Like a...friend. It was still horribly awkward at times, but he looked forward to rehearsals, and Wednesdays, where they would talk at length about anything and everything – usually dance.

"Settle down," Mrs. Linley said in a last ditch attempt to grab them, dishing out text books and pushing her round glasses up her nose. Blake shook his head; she was looking closer to a nervous breakdown each weak – a complete shivering wreck at times, her flyaway hair was greying quickly, her clothes were baggy, and her voice sounded as if it was going to break most lessons.

"Right, turn to page 239," she said with a happy smile – surprisingly everyone seemed fairly subdued. Must have been a bad weekend, Blake thought. They usually spent this hour on a Monday talking about the weekend's cavorts.

"Ok, Kendra, if you wouldn't mind reading the first paragraph at the top of the page," the teacher asked addressing a Latino girl with braided hair, and neon hoops in her ears. The girl nodded, and sat forward in her chair lazily.

"The Foxtrot originated in the summer of 1914 by Vaudeville actor Harry Fox. Born Arthur Carringford in Pomona, California, in 1882, he adopted the stage name of "Fox" after his grandfather. The -"

The door to the classroom opened in a quick movement, and a room full of eyes turned to watch as Alex hurried through the door, shutting it swiftly and headed to her seat. As she sat down, her knitted wrap fell open and she dropped her bag to the floor, bending forward to retrieve her notepad and pen quickly without making a lot of noise and sat back, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Mrs. Linley slowly handed her a text book.

"Sorry I'm late," Alex said simply, taking it with a smile that, even from where he sat, Blake realised didn't meet her eyes.

"Page 239," Mrs. Linley said, dumbstruck. Alex Hale was never late to class.

She wasn't the only one who was completely shocked at her entrance. Jane had leant out of her seat and was looking at her with an expression of concern. Both Reynolds and Jenkins had their mouths open, Blake noticed. And he himself couldn't stop staring at her. She looked to her left and caught his eye, and frowned at him, so he looked back to his text book and focused on the picture of Harry Fox.

"If you would continue, Kendra," the teacher said finally.

"The Foxtrot was the most significant development in all of ballroom dancing…"

The class seemed to drag as they continued to read from the textbook for half an hour until their teacher set them some written work – to simply answer the questions on the following page, and finish them for homework. Blake rolled his eyes as he turned over; History of Dance was known for its chronic amount of homework; there were over twenty questions there. Not everyone set straight to work – what could they do in fifteen minutes? – but most people had pen to paper in a quiet murmur. Mrs. Linley had sat down at her desk and was marking; seemingly thankful her duty was over.

"Hey, Hale," David Reynolds hissed at Alex, so loudly it caught Blake's attention. "Why don't you come out with me this Saturday?"

"Because I have better things to do with my time than study the integration of pond life into society," Alex answered, not raising her eyes from the page she was writing on, and sounding very blank. Reynolds paused, chewing over what she said.

"Aw, why not? It could be fun," he said smoothly, ignoring her insult, or more likely just not getting it. "You, me, my Subaru…"

"I'd rather stick my face in a blender than sit inside a Subaru with you, but thanks for thinking of me."

"When are you gonna give it up Hale?" David Reynolds said, leaning out of his seat, tapping his Biro against his knee. "The sexual chemistry between is undeniable."

Alex paused and looked up. "I beg to differ. The feeling of vomit rising to the back of my throat when I see you, now that's undeniable."

"Quit with the jibes - I've seen the way you look at me…it's the _look_," he whispered. "The look that you want me."

"Quiet please," Mrs. Linley said in an irritated tone. "I don't mind you talking quietly but it's escalating a little."

"Sorry Miss," David crooned. "I was trying to convince Alex to go out with me, but she insists on playing hard to get." He chuckled and winked at Kevin who turned in his chair to look at Jane – who was sensibly keeping her eyes to the page.

"Or maybe she's just not interested in you?" Blake said in a clear voice with a small laugh, not looking at the boy. The noise in the room deadened very quickly as everybody looked to where the retort had come from.

"Huh?" Reynolds said intelligently, as puzzled as everyone else was.

Blake paused and looked across at the boy, feeling everyone's eyes bore into him as he did so, including Alex's. "I don't think she's interested in you. Otherwise...wouldn't she have gone out with you by now? Or at least stopped chucking insults at you every time you asked?"

Reynolds tried to brush it off by laughing. "Yeah, well. Love is a flower that's sometimes slow to bloom you know?"

Blake laughed to himself and shut his textbook. "Right. Ok."

Reynolds' smile dropped at the sound of Blake's disbelieving laugh and smirk, and narrowed his eyes at him and scoffed. "Sorry _Collins_, didn't realise it was any of your business," he said, and Kevin laughed. Blake had no doubt that had they been sat near each other, they would have high fived.

"It's not," Blake shrugged.

"Then shut up."

"It's not _me_ that's embarrassing myself by being desperate," Blake pointed out.

Reynolds stopped laughing and put his tongue in his cheek. "Hey, Kevin. I think I get why Collins had his panties in a twist about it. I'd forgotten - I'm trespassing on _his_ territory." There was a low murmur in the class; Blake Collins, as son of the founders, was virtually untouchable. People may not like him, but no one would be stupid enough to pick a fight with the kid. Not when he could just offhandedly mention their name to his parents and have them removed. Well, no one except 'The Hunters' perhaps.

Blake rolled his eyes. "Don't be an idiot."

"What did you call me?" Reynolds asked, gritting his teeth and clenching his fist. He rose in his seat a little, and Mrs. Linley – seemingly forgotten – flinched slightly in fear of a fight. Blake didn't move.

"You heard me," he replied, wondering where his sudden boldness had come from. He'd had enough, quite frankly, of them both.

"Yeah, I thought I did. But I was giving you the chance to take it back, _King Collins_," Reynolds spat. The class seemed to make an 'ooo' sound, unsure whether to laugh or keep quiet.

Blake gripped his pen tightly in his hand and spun in his chair. The royalty joke had done it – he'd snapped. "Listen Reynolds, maybe you'd find you had better luck with women if you didn't treat them like pieces of meat. I'm no expert, but maybe, _perhaps_, if you actually tried to have a conversation with them that didn't involve you trying to 'give it to them' in the back of your clapped out, sorry excuse for a vehicle, then you might have better luck. I mean," he smirked, "it's not as if you're getting anywhere with Alex, are you?"

Reynolds shook with rage. "How the hell would you know?"

"I just don't think Alex is into men that resemble, in looks _and_ behaviour, whatever climbed out of the primordial ooze thousands of years ago..."

"Excuse me!" Alex said loudly over the both of them, slamming her textbook shut to get their attention. They grew silent and Reynolds sat down abruptly in his seat. "Reynolds, firstly, I am _nobody's_ territory. And this is not a turf war! _Secondly_ – get the hint. I hate you, I hate your Subaru. You and your friends are the most pathetic excuses for human beings I've seen in a long time. It's just not going to happen in any capacity, do you understand?" The boy blinked hard at her and she gave a little cry of exasperation. "I'll spell it out – we could be the last two people on the entire planet and the answer would still be N-O." She spat the letters at him, making him flinch with each syllable.

When she turned to look at Blake with an indignant look of vitriol, he swallowed hard. "And _you_ – I can fight my own battles thank you very much. Don't talk about me as if I'm not here and don't presume to know what I'm 'into'. You don't have any right to." She made a low sound of frustration at the back of her throat. "Men! You're unbelievable!"

And with that she returned to her page, leaving a stunned audience around her as the anger rolled off of her in waves. Mrs. Linley stared at them all with wide eyes unsure as to how to proceed, and luckily for her, the bell went seconds later.

"Right! Homework, for Thursday please," she jabbered, and no one left the classroom as quickly as she did.

Jane moved to Alex's side as the girl began shoving her things back in her bag, and waited patiently. Blake moved slower than he might have usually but he was hoping to talk to her. Reynolds and Jenkins had long gone, feeling a little put out they'd be shown up by a woman in front of everyone. As he walked past, he caught her eye, and seeing real irritation there, decided not to falter but she stopped him.

"What was that all about?" she asked, frowning.

"I was just trying to help."

"Well, I can handle it myself in future, thank you," she said in a low voice, crossing her arms.

Blake scowled. "Yes, you were doing a fantastic job," he said sarcastically, hissing a little. "You really succeeded in driving him away."

"You're such an ass," she shot at him.

"Well, I won't bother next time."

"Don't."

"Fine." He paused. "Is there any point having a rehearsal tonight, if you're going to be in a foul mood? Or are you going to be _late_?"

"Ha! That depends on whether you decide to not show up at all," Alex bit back.

"Don't be petty," he said coldly. Alex narrowed her eyes.

"Don't give it out if you can't take it back," she said simply, picking up her bag aggressively and heading out of the door with Jane, wide eyed, in tow.

XXXXX

The door to the studio pushed open later that day rather slowly, and Blake turned from where he stood waiting and stretching to see Alex standing there, with a sheepish expression and her bag hanging from her shoulder. He stood up straight and crossed his arms.

"You're late," he said simply, eyeing the clock and strolling over to where he had stood his water bottle. He thought it best to pretend this morning never happened; he'd heard reports of her being foul tempered throughout the day before disappearing at lunch. Jane had stopped by his locker, seemingly at a loss as to what was wrong with her. He'd decided then, even though it might be a long shot, to go to rehearsal anyway. If she came, he could at least try and find out why she was acting so strangely.

"Yeah, I know," she said taking a deep breath and speaking quite clearly. "Look, about this morning – I'm really sorry." She paused, seemingly waiting for a reaction in his face but he didn't move. "I shouldn't have spoken to you the way I did, although I think I was justified, I was in a terrible mood," she said, smiling weakly, "And I took it out on you."

Blake didn't speak, but instead he nodded, looking at his feet.

"And, while we're clearing the air," she groaned, closing her eyes and putting her hand over her face. "I am very sorry I called you a self righteous, jumped up, chauvinistic pig headed buffoon."

Blake's eyes shot up and met hers with a frown. "You didn't call me that," he said, laughing quietly.

Alex pulled her sheepish expression again and raised her hand to fiddle with her messy bun. "Er…yeah…I did. You just didn't hear me."

"Ah," he said, frowning slightly but unable to stop the corners of his mouth twitching upwards into a half smirk.

"Yeah," Alex said slightly with her cheeks flushing. "Like I said, I've been having a bad day."

Blake looked at his feet and nodded. "I guess I can sympathise with that."

Alex pointed a finger at him. "And it's not as if you've never taken anything out on me."

Blake seemed to falter as he thought about it. "No, I suppose that is true enough."

There was an awkward paused in the studio as they were unsure how to proceed before Alex let out a nervous laugh and a weak smile, and Blake found it was difficult to stay mad at someone who seemed genuinely repentant. Besides, she still looked tired, and wore the same rushed and confused look she had all day; her top hung off one shoulder and the sleeves were long and pulled over her palms. She hadn't changed out of her khaki Capri's, and although he could see her leotard underneath, she wasn't ready to dance. She looked weary and a little lost, and for no apparent reason it distressed him deeply. Biting the bullet, he crossed his arms.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

Alex shrugged and dropped her duffel bag on the floor. She unzipped it and pulled out her Bloch's, playing with the ribbons a little in her hands. "Not really but hey, life goes on."

"Well," he said, awkwardly. "Did you…want to talk about it?" He'd planned confronting her in his head, but he didn't quite know how it would actually turn out.

Alex stared at him. "With you?"

"Well, there's no need to sound like that. I'm not the monster everyone makes me out to be," Blake said curtly. Alex smiled.

"I know that, I just didn't think you'd really be up for a heart to heart or being anyone's 'shoulder to cry on'."

Blake shifted uncomfortably, regretting his offer. "You're going to cry?"

"It was a metaphor," Alex said blankly, gesturing for him to turn around, or close his eyes as she pulled off her clothes and slipped on her shoes – it was a hot day so she did without the tights. "Ok, I'm done. Let's get started." Blake didn't move as she stepped closer to him. She narrowed her eyes and stared at him.

"Aren't we going to dance?" she asked looking at the stereo, which Blake insisted on having control to. She'd given up trying to fight him for it, and instead come to a quiet resignation that it was just something he liked to do.

He looked down at her. "Well besides the fact you haven't stretched, I'm not convinced you're ok yet."

"Blake," Alex sighed, sounding a little annoyed. "Why is it bothering you so much? Can't we just get on with it?"

He paused, pondering her question. "I don't know _why_, but I like stability and for the first time in all the time I've know you, you've turned up late to a lesson, you verbally attacked me in a class full of people, and quite frankly – not meaning any offence – you look absolutely wiped."

"Verbally attacked?" she repeated, mustering a smile.

"A lesser man might have cried," he said wryly.

Alex paused, exhaling through her nose and then, after a while, rubbed her forehead. He looked at her feet – she was standing in third position sub consciously – and waited.

"I am wiped actually," she started. "I've not been feeling very well and today I woke up late. _Me. _I overslept for goodness sake," she laughed. "And then I got in this stupid fight with my Dad, over nothing," she said with her eyes closed. "Anyway," she said finally blinking and bringing her hands to her hips with a smile. "It's just been one of those days."

"And what made you think," Blake said, ignoring her last sentence and frowning as she moved to start dancing, "That you had to carry on pushing yourself when you weren't feeling well?"

She paused, weighing up her response. "Well, I didn't want to let anyone down."

Blake raised an eyebrow and looked intently at her. "Anyone? Or me?"

Alex didn't respond at first – he'd hit the nail on the head, but didn't know how honest she wanted to be at that stage. "Well…not _just _you," she said dismissively, waving a hand. Blake smirked.

"Right."

"You can wipe that stupid smirk off your face," Alex said sternly. "Fine – I thought that if I told you I wanted to rest, you'd be annoyed or judge me for being...'weak'."

She shrunk under his heavy gaze, which seemed to be scrutinising her to her very core. "What makes you think, more to the point, that I'm the kind of person that would put dance or being a good performer above someone's health and well being?" Blake asked with a deeper frown.

"I don't..."

"If you were unwell, or wanted a break, why didn't you say?" he continued over the top of her. "Is that how I come across? As some kind of tyrannical dictator?" She shook her head. "Because that's how you've painted me." He sounded almost hurt as he stood before her, asking questions she felt unable to answer.

"I...I guess, it's more me than you," she said, looking at the floor. "I needed to...I don't know...prove myself, and I was pushing to keep up. I've never had a partner before, and...to be quite frank Blake, you're much better than me." Alex met his eyes as she said it, and he could see she genuinely believed what she was saying.

"You're not being serious right?" Blake said, scoffing.

"About which part?" she asked, suddenly very confused.

"All of it! You don't have to prove yourself – it was you yourself that pointed out to me that I wouldn't have asked you to be my partner unless I was convinced of your talent. And as for trying to keep up..." he laughed to himself, a little cruelly. "I'd given you more credit than that."

Alex crossed her arms. "Oh, _really_?"

"Yes. You should be secure in your ability – you're good. You don't need to try and keep up with me. Hell, you wouldn't even have to partner with anyone if you didn't want to," he said, quite simply but enjoyed watching her colour a little under his praise.

"Thank you," she replied, a little unsure how to reply.

"Now then," he said firmly, turning her by her shoulders so she faced the door and ushering her to her bag. Alex began to object but his strong grip forced her to where their bags lay and only then did he let go, flexing his fingers a little. "You're going to get dressed, and meet me at my car. You need a break and I'm taking you for ice cream."

"Ice cream..." Alex repeated slowly. Her partner nodded, a little impatiently as if urging for her to keep up. She should be used to his bossing her around and yet she looked as if it was the first time a command had ever escaped his lips.

"Yes, ice cream. I know this little parlour – I've been there a couple of times. Just...don't tell my mother," he said, looking quite serious, fiddling with the car keys in his hand, but then surprising her once again with a smile.

Alex nodded dumbly and seconds later he'd left the room. This had to be the most surreal twenty minutes of her life – Blake Collins had not only let her off rehearsing but he was taking her out to have a good time, and to cheer her up no less. Pulling off her ballet shoes hurriedly, and pulling on her trousers, she wondered what on earth had gotten in to him. He seemed to constantly surprise her at every turn, so much so that the figure she'd acclimatised herself to had all but disappeared, leaving this strange, yet fantastic apparition of a guy who actually had feelings, and seemed to be concerned about hers.

She didn't know quite what to expect from him anymore.

Stepping out of the studio and making her way to his car, Alex felt almost nervous. This wasn't study, this wasn't dancing - this was two people using their spare time to benefit one another. Wasn't that a friendship?

Was Blake Collins her friend?

Who'd have thought it?

Alex stepped out of the school with the afternoon sun, still hot, hitting her smartly in the face. Blake was waiting patiently by his car – having already put his bags in the boot, he waited for her to walk over so she could do the same. Smiling and strolling over, she felt like a weight had been lifted, if it was only for a few hours. Pulling some sunglasses from her bag and donning them, Blake cast a sideways glance at her.

"Are you ready? Or would you rather go home?" he asked. "I can take you back if you want." He didn't seem concerned either way, but Alex was. She pondered it and crossed her arms. This was the crossroad. Shaking her head, she got in the car.


	11. Hang With Me

_A/N: Chapter title comes from the song 'Hang With Me' by Robyn and I think it's one of those songs that lyrically describes Blake and Alex's relationship; let's hang out and be there for each other, but let's try not to let it go any further. Which is silly, because it inevitably will!_

Chapter 11 – Hang With Me

"Where on earth are we?" Alex asked stepping out the car. "When you said it was out of the way, I didn't realise you meant a part of town where no would hear me scream."

Blake narrowed his eyes and locked the car. "Very witty. Coming from the girl who said the Green was perfectly safe. We're actually not that far from the school: I just took the back roads to avoid rush hour traffic."

"So, how often have you been here?" Alex quizzed him, pulling off her Wayfarer sunglasses. He couldn't miss the amused tone in her voice.

"Only a few times – three in total. I stumbled on it by accident; my parents' anniversary was a few months back in the summer and I offered to take Chase off of their hands to give them a break. We were coming back from the zoo and he was driving me _crazy_, and I spotted the parlour's sign as we sat at the lights over there. I bribed him with ice cream," he said in a quieter tone, and a coy smile. "Again, don't tell my mother. He's supposed to be on a strict diet."

"Mom's the word," Alex smiled with a quirk of her eyebrow. "That was lucky then, that you happened to be nearby."

"I call it divine providence," Blake smirked. "I was going to wring the little terror's neck."

Alex smiled again and looked up at the tiny parlour, tucked between a laundrette called 'Wash-o-rama!" and a disused shop with a large 'For Let' sign in its grimy window. It was a strange part of the city; Alex had heard a lot of dance crews met in these parts, something that had always deeply fascinated her. She knew her limits, and doubted she'd ever venture out of her comfort zone. A ballerina didn't belong in the middle of that sort of scene. The parlour itself was called "Andre's Ices" and was moderately cleaner than the rest of the setting, with newly washed windows and a freshly painted motif. All in all it was quite charming from the outside, and she was already feeling better.

Blake opened the door for her to go through, causing the bell to ring as he did, and without saying it Alex could almost hear his 'ladies first' in his mind. Stepping past and into the parlour, she welcomed the cooler air of the room, as it was still humid and sticky outside. Reports kept saying how it was the warmest October Baltimore had seen in a century, and boy did she know it. People were still getting away with wearing shorts to school.

The whole room had a time warped diner feel to it; the floors were a shiny checkered linoleum, the walls were cream and there were pictures framed and dotted upon them just like at Gusty Pete's. However, the atmosphere was lighter, decidedly Mediterranean and thankfully not as busy.

A long counter made of glass stretched along the wall to their left and had trays of ice creams of every colour imaginable behind it, with the odd ice cream scoop dug into the creamy food. The walls behind the counter were tiled and a large chalk board hung displaying the prices and various arrangements of ice cream you could buy. Blake strained to see where the server was, and seconds later a large tanned man appeared from the kitchen area – parted from the public area by a curtain of wooden beads – with a large moustache and curly dark hair. He was clearly Italian, and nothing but a walking stereotype. His eyes smiled so brightly that Alex couldn't help but return it and bask in the warmth exuding from him.

"Hallo," the man smiled, pausing and then wagging a large finger at Blake. "You have come here before."

"One or two times..." Blake began to protest, looking a little uneasy, with a nervous smile.

"I knew it! Andre never forgets a face. Or a flavour," he added with a wink. "You had Neapolitan, and the little one had chocolate, with chocolate sauce, and chocolate drops, and anything else I had that was made of chocolate, no?" he chuckled, mostly to himself. His eyes, a dark brown, fell on Alex and then glanced back to Blake.

"But I see you've not brought your brother this time..." he said mischievously and Alex smiled warmly at him as Blake frowned.

"What flavours have you got then?" she asked, changing the subject and wandering over to the glass.

"Anything."

"Anything?" Alex laughed. "Oh, I don't believe that."

Andre raised an eyebrow. "A sceptic, I see. I enjoy a challenge. Think of a flavour."

Alex appeared thoughtful for a moment and then crossed her arms. "Bleach and raisin."

Andre laughed very loudly, to her surprise, and wagged his finger again. "Now that's wasn't fair but as a first time customer, I shall let it go. I like this one," he added with a wrinkled expression directed at Blake. "What can I get you two?"

Blake looked at Alex who was scanning the cards on the tubs of ice cream and tapping her lip pensively. "I'll have toffee please," she said, "as we're having a bit of a treat. Why not, eh?" she shrugged, looking at the two men.

"Any toppings?" Andre asked.

"Surprise me. I'll go grab a seat." And she stepped away, looking for a booth to sit it – the choice was wide as the shop was hardly booming with business as five o'clock in the afternoon, but she deliberated all the same and finally settled on one not too far from the counter but tucked away.

Andre eyed her and then began to scoop her ice cream into a clean glass. "So you liked the old shop so much you brought a date huh?" he said in hushed tones to Blake. Blake's mouth gaped a little.

"She's not my date," he hissed, getting flustered. "We're...She's my dance partner!"

"Eh, and so was my wife before we got married," Andre whispered with a knowing gaze.

"Well, not me and Alex," Blake said firmly. "We're just friends."

Andre retained his fixed cheeriness and placed Alex's glass on the counter. "And you sir, Neapolitan?" Blake nodded, waited in silence and paid Andre for the ice creams before taking them over to the booth. Alex had taken her hair out of its bun and let it tumble into messy curls about her shoulders.

"What I don't get," Alex said, pulling the glass towards her, quickly taking in the sauce Andre had added, and the tiny bits of broken biscuit before taking a spoonful, "is why you came back a further two times. The first time was to shut Chase up, but then what? You're hardly an ice cream man," she added with a smirk, before popping the spoon in her mouth. The ice cream as delicious and refreshing and she couldn't help but cast a smile over in Andre's direction who was watching them discreetly.

"You keep saying that," Blake frowned, pulling the wafer out of his and laying it on the under plate. "Like I'm defined by food stuff. Salmon, burgers, ice cream..." he shook his head.

"Well how else am I going to figure you out?" she replied quietly with a cheeky smile. "If not by crossing off my assumptions?" Blake shook his head but didn't offer and answer.

"It's a good place to think," he said, changing the subject and answering her previous question. "I don't know why but I just find it inspiring. You know that seat lift where you tumble into a backward drop in our routine?" he said, explaining with a spark in his eyes that Alex was well accustomed to; he often got it when he was excited about choreography or dance, or when they'd finally worked through a difficult step. He had leant in a little, subconsciously, as he talked. "Well, I came up with it here. I just kept thinking about the routine and why it wasn't working at that part, and it came to me. So I gave it a try another time, and it worked again."

Alex looked thoughtful. "That was a good lift."

"I know."

"Ice cream is your brain food then," she said slowly, with a smirk.

Blake rolled his eyes, and leaned backwards. "Clearly. And to think I've been _deprived_ of it all these years. I wonder if I might do better in my midterms if I eat a bowlful of ice cream before each one."

"I doubt it. You'll probably just start packing on the weight," Alex said blankly.

"And then my mother would find out," Blake pointed out. "And my life wouldn't be worth living."

They ate quietly for the most, barely speaking until they'd finished their ice cream. Blake kept a tentative eye on her, watching for a change in her countenance – she'd been so tired and weary looking before, but she seemed to have perked up a little. And although her hair was still a mess, but it suited her as it fell about her face. He was so used to it tied back that he forgot what she looked like when it was down. She was almost...radiating a natural beauty despite the lines under her eyes and the occasional yawn.

"So," Blake said carefully, blinking and playing with the napkin on the under plate. "What was the argument with your father about?"

Alex waved a hand. "Oh that. It was so stupid. I snapped at him, and I was just so inconsiderate." Blake waited patiently for her to continue. She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "My Mom...died...seven years ago today, and I overslept. We usually do this thing in the morning together on her anniversary, but instead of being sorry I just had a go at him for not waking me up, and accused him of not giving a damn about dancing or school...you know, all the stuff that isn't true but you say anyway?"

Blake nodded, but didn't reply, leaning forward on his forearms and listening carefully.

"Anyway," she sighed again. "He has a temper like mine so - if you picture the scene – there's the two of us yelling at each other from opposite ends of the house as I get dressed, and he's chucking pancakes in the bin, and it climaxes with me slamming the door and walking to school."

"You walked? All the way?"

"We've been through this," Alex scolded. "It's not that far. Why is that the issue right now?"

"You could have rung me..."

"You're not my personal chauffeur Blake," she said with a kind smile.

There was a quiet pause between them before Blake asked her another question. "How did your Mom die?"

"Car accident."

He nodded, noting her sad expression. "Do you miss her a lot?"

"Well yeah," she said as if it were obvious. "But I was young, and you just kind of get on with things. And my Dad is great and we get on so well. You'd like him," she added, and immediately frowned, unsure as to why she'd even said it. As if they were going to be sitting around a table together at any time soon.

If Blake noticed her confusion, he didn't let on. "What's he like?" Blake asked, looking at his hands.

"Tall, completely white hair even though he's only just in his forties; he's been that way since I was little, like Steve Martin," she laughed. "He likes sports, baseball especially. He's from Boston originally. Funny, kind, a bit kooky, all that jazz. He likes to tease people but he's a really decent sort of guy." She smiled broadly as she talked about her dad.

"I figured he'd be a dancer," Blake admitted, pushing his glass away from him in an attempt to stop his playing with it.

"Heck no," Alex laughed. "He's pretty clueless when it comes to dance. Never missed a recital though, which is nice. My Mom was a gymnast, if you're looking for a genetic clue." He met her eyes – teasing once again – and rolled his eyes.

"You're lucky with your Dad – I bet he doesn't scrutinise every step you take on stage." He didn't sound bitter, and Alex smiled at his ability to be self deprecating.

"Only because he doesn't know an arabesque from arrabiatta chicken," she joked, putting him at ease. He gave her a crooked smile.

"There are blessings in that," he insisted, and they fell into another silence. Alex stared around the room, giving Blake another opportunity to observe her. She really was quite pretty. While being a suitable shape for a ballerina, she didn't have that terrible androgynous body that a lot of them had, making them look like poles in skirts. And there was something wholly engaging about her, not just when they danced, but in conversation; she had a personality and air that reached out and grabbed you. Had she not just fell into an easy rapport with Andre after five minutes? Blake envied that quality – his people skills were limited and stretched only as far as being polite with new people, or elders, or members of staff. Alex was the first real person he'd ever been himself with, and he could like himself when he was with her. He seemed...freer, and she was accepting rather than condemning for the most part.

When he thought back to her audition, he'd never imagined himself here a few months down the line, enjoying spending time with her outside of the studio. Part of him didn't want it to end, not for now at least, part of him was shaking its head and telling him to get a grip, and a more uncertain part, shaking and quivering, wanted to know where this was all heading.

Because while they had sat there, Blake had thought on more than one occasion about taking her hand.

The idea was ludicrous, but it was there all the same. They were friends at the most, and at the least bitter enemies; she had auditioned for his partner to prove a point, to flower her ego, and he had accepted so not to withdraw from her challenge and to give her a taste of her own medicine. He'd never imagined liking her then, he'd never imagined enjoying her company, looking forward to after school rehearsals, offering to pick her up, taking her for ice cream...even feeling hopeful at the prospect of meeting her father.

Blake Collins had a crush.

Again, it was ludicrous – Alex almost certainly didn't feel the same. And she had made her views on men quite clearly in History of Dance earlier that day, he remembered with a cool shiver. But all the same, he couldn't shake it and suddenly, being in her presence was making him feel warm and nauseous all at the same time.

Alex could feel Blake's eyes on her and so turned to look at him. "Was something the matter?" She paused. "You've gone pale."

"We should go," he said quite suddenly. "It's late, and I should get you home."

"Yes," Alex said sadly. "I should probably apologise to my Dad."

They rose from their seats and headed for the door. Andre, who was cleaning glasses, turned and waved a free hand. "Come back soon, ok," he said raising his eyebrows. "It was nice to see you again, Mr. Collins and..." The man looked at Alex for her name.

"Alex Hale," she smiled.

"And you, Miss Alex, have been a delight," he chuckled. "I hope to see you again."

"You probably will," Alex assured him, patting her flat stomach. "That was the best ice cream I've ever tasted."

They said goodbye, and Blake once again opened the door for her and followed her to where the car had been parked. It was still light, but the air was definitely cooling now. Alex shivered after sitting in the parlour and wrapped her cardigan around herself. She was glad when Blake unlocked the doors and they climbed inside.

"Home," he seemed to mutter, almost to himself, but then he cast a weak smile at her.

They drove in the same silence they often seemed to find themselves in – a comfortable one, that neither of them had any qualms about breaking or falling into. Blake seemed to be done with his questions, Alex observed, had gone a little sombre, and she had nothing further to say really. She liked that she didn't have to maintain a conversation with him; it was refreshing after being around people all day that wanted to talk about anything and everything. She enjoyed the peace, and Blake Collins seemed peaceful, though she knew that was most likely not the case. She'd seen a few glimpses now of something a little darker, a shadow crossing his face as he spoke about his parents, enough to make her realise he was not the contented king of the school people made him out to be.

"Here we go," he said, coming to a stop outside of her house. He'd always admired it from the outside; the balcony he guessed led off Alex's room, or her father's, and had a hammock seat stretched out at one end.

"Thank you," Alex said, with a smile.

"That's ok, I'd have given you a lift anyway," he said simply. "It's Wednesday."

"I was talking about the ice cream," she said. "You didn't have to take me out, but I appreciate it."

"Well," he said unsure how to respond, and feeling very awkward. "I have to do something for my public image, seeing as I have obviously come across as a bit of a brute."

Alex opened her mouth to say something, to contradict him, but she noticed that Blake's eyes had widened, and then been buried by a frown again as he squinted off at something past her shoulder. She turned in her seat and saw her Dad standing on the porch with his hands in his pockets. When she met his eyes, he waved and began to walk down the steps, towards the car.


	12. Daddy's Girl

Chapter 12 – Daddy's Girl 

"Hey Dad," Alex said as she got out of the car, greeting him with a small, sheepish smile. Blake got out too, and went around to the back of the car to get Alex's bag for her. The man stared at Blake, and greeted his daughter by patting her shoulder.

"Hey," he said in a sombre tone, "You're late home."

"She's going for a hat trick," Blake muttered, passing Alex her bag, and fell silent under her father's confused gaze. He wasn't sure why he'd said it, other than that he was extremely nervous. Alex stepped in to explain.

"I was late to school, then to rehearsal and now home," she said with a faint smile. "He's joking," she added, as if she had to explain.

Her father nodded and crossed his arms. Blake tried to keep his chin up under the man's scrutiny; at easily six foot tall and with the stature of an athlete, his bright blue eyes were penetrating Blake and making him feel uncomfortable, and he couldn't help but feel he was only allowed there on approval. He was terrifying. Yet Alex had described her father as kind, and funny, so Blake searched for signs of that in his countenance.

No, he was just annoyed.

But who could blame him? His daughter and he had been in a fight, and she had stayed out late with a boy that, although could be trusted, he'd never met properly. Fathers had to worry about that sort of thing.

William stared at Blake for a little longer, taking in his physique. He hadn't expected the boy to be quite so charming and...well..._good looking_. With dark hair and very grave eyes, he could tell Blake wasn't like a lot of the male dancers he'd seen when he'd gone to Alex's concerts. This one seemed self assured in a good way; as opposed to the cocksure idiots he'd been privy to backstage. He seemed very serious for someone his age, with a frown that he often only saw on adults.. You could tell by the eyes that he was much older inside than out, and that was comforting. Maturity in a guy that spent a lot of time with his daughter was reassuring.

He had wanted to believe the worst in Blake when his name first reached William's ears several weeks back. But actions speak louder than words, and the actions he had witnessed from this Collins kid were nothing short of exemplary. He had wanted to be wary when Alex first told him about the boy giving her lifts home, but he had never heard report of him over stepping the mark, and he knew that Alex wouldn't take bother from anyone if she didn't want to. He'd raised her to hold her own, and she could damn well do it.

He wanted to be mad she had been out with Blake instead of coming back home, but he just couldn't. She was in one piece, and she was smiling and that was definitely an improvement on this morning.

"You could have rung me," her dad said in a low voice, turning his attention to his daughter. "I've been worried. I rang the school, and the Director said no one was in the studio."

"Yeah, sorry. I guess I was still mad," Alex said guiltily, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Blake took me out for ice cream to cheer me up."

"I'm not angry, you're old enough to take care of yourself," William said with a sad sigh parents often used when they realised their child was grown up. "I just...after you left this morning, I felt awful. Considered skipping work to come see you," he admitted scratching his head. "But you're home now, so that's ok."

"I'll leave you two alone," Blake muttered, wanting to leave their father daughter moment, but William's eyes fell on him again.

"No, wait," he commanded, lifting a hand. "Blake Collins isn't it?" he said, pacing towards him, ready to shake the boy's hand. Blake eyed it with a frown but took it and shook it firmly.

"Yes."

"William Hale, Alex's father," he said in a deep voice. "It's nice to finally meet you face to face. I want to thank you for getting Alex home safe these past few weeks. You didn't have to, and my mind's been put at ease knowing that she's not _walking back through the Green_," he added with a sideways glance at his daughter, as she rolled her eyes.

Blake gave him a crooked smile, and fought the urge to look over William's shoulder to throw Alex a smug look. "It's not a problem."

"And I gotta say," William chuckled. "This is one sweet ride. A Ford Mustang – I didn't think kids your age would be interested in the classics."

"Well, I like it," was all Blake managed.

"Did your parents buy it for you?" William asked with a hand on the roof, examining the bodywork.

Blake raised an eyebrow. "No, I bought it myself."

Alex looked at him with astonishment. She hadn't known that. Once again, another surprise from the enigmatic Blake Collins.

William nodded appreciatively. "Well, I'm always saying to Alex what good taste you have."

Blake nodded. "Thank you Mr. Hale."

William grinned and looked at Alex. "Well behaved isn't he? Thought you said he was a bit of an as..."

"Ahhh, Dad, inside," Alex said in a high pitched voice, laughing nervously as she pulled him away and pushed him towards the house. "I didn't say that," she whispered, with a screwed up face to Blake. "He likes to joke – remember, I said he was funny. _Hilarious_," she said pushing her father again, and thumping his back.

William halted by digging his feet in and turning so quickly, Alex nearly fell over. His face spread into one of sudden thoughtfulness. "Hey, Blake!" he called out. "You like baseball?"

Blake, who had been getting into his car, stopped doing so and leant on the top hood. "I guess so," he said, with a frown. "Why do you ask?"

"Come by this Saturday – it's a big game. Atlanta Braves versus the Cleveland Indians," William said, ignoring his daughter's dazed face. "If you know anything about the game, you'll know what a shocking final that is."

"I don't know..." Blake rubbed his head.

"I could do with the company! I can get rid of Alex," William suggested, wincing as she punched his arm. Blake couldn't help but smile.

"No, that's ok..."

"We'll have carrot sticks..." William said. "Cos I know you dancers aren't really into Doritos's. Call it a thank you offering, for taking care of my girl," he said wrapping an arm around Alex's neck. She looked embarrassed at first but looking up at her Dad, Blake saw a real love fill in her eyes. He was almost jealous; he almost certainly couldn't be that way with his mother, and though his father often ribbed him the way William did Alex, it didn't feel the same.

"I guess so," Blake answered finally. He had nothing else on in the afternoon, and he quite liked the prospect of having something to do that wasn't related to dance. "I have work in the morning, but I'm free after that."

"Excellent, it's a date," William smiled, squeezing Alex's shoulders. She made a strange noise, her cheeks flushing a deep red, but she kept her smile.

"Bye Mr. Hale, goodbye Alex," Blake said, giving them a quick wave and getting into his car finally. He exhaled deeply as he sat there for a moment. Well, he'd gotten his wish hadn't he? He'd met William Hale. And it hadn't been so bad. The guy could have hated him instantly. Fathers, he'd observed, had a way of knowing when someone was interested in their daughter, even if it was just a small spark. Blake frowned as he started the engine and pulled away, a cold hand gripping at his stomach. Was that why he'd be invited round? For approval? To be sized up as a potential partner for his daughter?

Suddenly Saturday didn't seem like such a good idea.

XXXXX

Alex shut the door behind her father and sighed. It wasn't even seven yet, and she was exhausted – completely ready to crawl under her covers and go to sleep. But she hadn't eaten anything except for the ice cream, and even she couldn't deny the rumble in her belly. Her father had gone through into the kitchen as if anticipating her need to eat, and she followed him dumbly to find him getting a plate of food out from the refrigerator and sliding it into the microwave. She sat down on a stool at the breakfast bar. William glanced up as he leant on the counter with a smile.

"So that was Blake Collins huh?"

Alex shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

"You didn't mention how good looking he was," William probed.

Alex raised an eyebrow, and donned a smirk. "Are you gay?"

Her father laughed at his daughter's ability to hold her own against even him, and went to the fridge to get a bag of salad out. Pulling her plate from the microwave and arranging some tossed salad leaves for her, he slid it across the table with a knife and fork. She murmured some thanks, eyeing the lasagne suspiciously but digging her fork into it none the less.

"How is it?" he asked after a few mouthfuls, sitting down opposite.

"S'good. Did next door make it?" 'Next door' being Mrs. Shepherd, whose son had also attended MSA and had since flown the nest. She occasionally made the Hale's meals as a good will offering, knowing Alex was often busy and William was hopeless.

"Nope, I made it myself," he said. Alex coughed and put down the fork, one step away from spitting it out. She swallowed her mouthful, and stuck her tongue out, reaching for a glass and walking to the tap for a drink.

"Let me see the recipe," she demanded, downing some water with a wrinkled up nose. William laughed loudly and shook his head.

"It's your recipe! I followed it to the letter. And you said it was good. I figured you need a break from taking care of us, when you're trying to do school and stuff. So I bit the bullet and started teaching myself." He leaned in close to his daughter who still looked sceptical. "I made dessert..."

"From scratch?" Alex said, not bothering mask her incredulity.

"Nah, it's Betty Crocker, but the thought was there," William admitted with a shrug. Alex snorted, sat down and carried on eating. William waited patiently until she'd finished; she'd been hungry alright, not a scrap was left on her plate. But she was subdued, and although she'd arrived home smiling, and they'd been joking before, the weight of this morning seemed to press on them both.

"Thanks," Alex said quietly pushing the plate aside. "Sorry we didn't eat together."

"That's ok," her father said glumly.

Alex sighed. Every year on the anniversary of her mother's death, they would have their mother's favourite breakfast – maple syrup pancakes, which would be the only time of year Alex ate anything like that for breakfast – and talk about her. It was a simple thing, and for one day they made an overt effort to keep Nina alive by bringing back her memory. In the afternoon, they usually sat on the porch, just in view of the rosebushes which, in spite of his lack of gardening abilities, William had maintained. The evening was devoted to watching her favourite movie – _It's a Wonderful Life._

And they had broken tradition today.

It didn't sit well as the realisation dawned, and Alex began to feel a little sick. Her apology rushed out of her like a flood. "I'm so sorry Dad - I didn't mean anything I said. I've just been so run down, and then I blamed you for not waking me up. I'm sorry we've not done any of the things we would normally."

William shook his head. "I'm sorry. I should have woken you up, but I just figured you needed your rest. That's my problem – I don't look at things logically, I just see you looking exhausted and dismiss school. It's not that I don't give a damn about your dancing," he said taking her plate to the dishwasher, so missing her wince as he repeated her words back to her. "I don't want you to think that."

"But we've not done pancakes, or the roses, or the film..." She looked at the clock. _We could still do the film_, she thought, though the idea of it made her drowsy.

William seemed to read her mind and shook his head. "It's just one time. Your Mom's been dead ten years Alex. I dealt with her ghost a long time ago; the idea of doing this each year isn't to preserve her and pretend she's still here, to _mourn_ her. It's to remember her, and celebrate what she loved. I can do that any day," he said with a sad smile. "I see her in lots of things. Not just pancakes, roses and the face of James Stewart."

"I guess so." She had to smile.

"Anyway," William said, doing his usual trick of not lingering too long in a touching moment. "First real date with Collins eh?" He wiggled his eyebrows and Alex shook her head.

"You've gotta stop doing that! Especially since you _invited him round_," she said with a glare. "What was that all about?"

"I figured the kid could do with a break," William shrugged. "He looked very...intense."

"A break? With you?" Alex said incredulously, rising from her seat.

"Yeah, go on. Say it like I'm Hitler or something." William passed by her to go through to the lounge. "The kid needs something other than dance. Human company, that's what. Didn't take me five minutes to work that out."

"Blake has friends," Alex said, with a frown and crossing her arms over herself as she followed him. William had thrown himself into his chair and switched the television on.

"Bug, I see the same thing in him that I see in you," William sighed.

"What's that?" Alex said, perching on the arm of his chair and staring at him.

"Loneliness. The both of you - surrounded by people all the time and feeling completely alone. Don't frown like you think I don't know what I'm talking about – you want to take dance as far as you can, and some of your friends will fall at the first hurdle. You're isolated, and special," he insisted with a smile. "Now you have the ole Hale charm, so people are always going to be drawn to you," he added with a wink, to try and soften his damning statement. "But for a long time you've tried to pass off this self inflicted solitude as preferring my company, or your responsibilities. Hanging out with your Dad is fine, but when are you going to start _living_?"

Alex stared at the television and the moving images, but didn't answer, nor did she take them in.

"I'm not saying I want you to start drinking, or injecting crack into your eyeballs, or whatever it is you're supposed to do," he said dismissively, making Alex laugh to herself. "And I _know _you're not into parties and hooking up with guys every night. Believe me that is a _huge_ relief," he said with wide eyes. "But living doesn't involve being reckless. It's about letting go."

"Dad," Alex groaned. "I'm tired, and this is turning into a _Dear Abby_ column."

"Just listen. For the first time," William continued, nursing a bottle of beer in his hands she hadn't noticed him bring through, "there is someone in your life who takes the lonely look out of your eyes. Now, it doesn't matter if you find the guy attractive or not – I was just teasing about that, even though he seems like a decent enough guy - but as a _friend_, he's more like you than you think, and I think more of each other's company would be good for the both of you."

She paused and thought about it. He was right to a degree. She liked Jane and Hilary and Frankie all the others she spent time with – they filled a gap and they were good people – but sometimes she couldn't express how she felt over certain things in a way that they would understand. Dance was her everything in life; she adored it above all things, except her father, and she wondered if they would be willing to push themselves the way she was. If nothing else, Blake had been a good friend; he understood her and to a certain degree cared about her welfare. And she didn't dislike his company. In fact, at certain times, she almost craved it – to be with someone so likeminded, and the calm quiet she had experienced earlier.

"When did you get so wise?" she joked quietly.

"When I started watching _Oprah_. That woman..." he cooed, but he patted Alex's leg affectionately.

"Well, so long as you don't embarrass me on Saturday," Alex said, skirting around her internal thoughts and getting up to go to bed. "Or yourself."

William scoffed. "As if I would."

"Oh right," Alex said sarcastically. "Shall I just remind you of just before? 'We'll have carrot sticks?'" she said, mimicking his deep voice and Bostonian accent.

"Hey! I was being considerate of other people's preferences!" William objected, sitting forward and wagging a finger at her retreating back.

"Whatever," Alex called out as she scaled the stairs to her bedroom. "Just do me a favour – for the love of God, don't bring up leotards."


	13. The First Innings

Chapter 13 – The First Innings

"What do you mean you're going to see some friends?" his mother asked from the bottom of the stairs as Blake, still in his work uniform, traipsed up them to his room. He had to admit, her surprise stung a little. But she had a point; he spent most Saturday's by himself, or doing homework, or with them as a family. When he had come back and told them he was headed out (omitting the fact it was Alex's house he was headed to - his mother would have had a field day with _that _piece of information), there had been a spark of interest in the Collins residence. Who was he going to see? What would they be doing? How long would he be gone? Why hadn't he mentioned it sooner? Was it a date? All the questions that had made him keep it from them in the first place. He had managed to be vague, but his mother was more persistent than he gave her credit for.

Blake turned on the stairs with a heavy sigh. "I'm just going round a friend's house," he explained calmly. "There's some kind of big baseball game on and I got invited to go round and watch it." It wasn't exactly a lie, even if he didn't know where he stood with William yet.

"Baseball," his mother repeated, saying it like it was a dirty word.

"It's the World Series final today," said Clive, who had appeared behind her to lead her away, wearing his reading glasses. "It's alright - go get changed."

"Thank you," muttered Blake, frustrated and a little exasperated, turning his back on them and heading up once more to his room.

His room was at the front of the house, overlooking the street and separated from the other bedrooms by his own bathroom, an upstairs study and the family bathroom. His was easily one of the largest rooms but none of the rooms in the Collins house were less than adequately sized. Blake regarded his own as some kind of sanctuary; a place he could come go to when he didn't feel like facing humanity, and somewhere he could shut the door to. It would have been perfect, had it been big enough to dance in, but then again that was why the garage had been converted into a studio space.

Opening the door, he threw his bag down, breathing another sigh. Safe at last. His mother didn't dare bother him there, and only Chase entered when invited to.

Blake's room was painted the same baby blue it had been since his mother decorated it when seven months pregnant, and although the rest of the house had undergone recent redecoration and changes, Blake had demanded his stayed the same. The floor was a carpet of desert beige – neutral at his mother's insistence, as it created an easy palette. There was a desk, overlooking the street out front, and opposite was his double bed with a quilt his grandmother had made draped over the end. The room was bare and without personal affects, apart from a few black and white posters of famous dancers – Mikhail Baryshnikov, Darcey Bussell, a cast ensemble photograph of the Royal Ballet School's performance of the Nutcracker – pinned above his bed. The only personal photograph was of Chase, grinning wildly at his first dance class, and it was the only picture framed, standing proudly on the desk by his books. Everything was neat; not a scrap of clothing out of place or left untidy, and if it had been any other way, Blake would not have liked it so much.

He had a quick shower partly because he couldn't shake the smell of work – a large brand sports store which smelt perpetually of leather – and partly because he wanted to look a little better than a boy who had spent the morning in the stock room being order around by a fat man with a gout problem. Not that Blake supposed you could tell that just by looking at him, but it was psychological, and as soon as he stood under the hot shower stream, he began to feel the stress of work ebb away with the flow of water. He finished quickly, dismissing his thoughts of work, and soon he was standing at his chest of drawers with a confused frown.

He had to be at Alex's in half an hour, and although it wasn't far, there was still the matter of what on earth did someone wear to watch a sports match at someone else's house? He'd never taken an active interest in the sport; he liked baseball to a point and supported a team, but he hardly had time to watch it and he wasn't exactly the sort of guy who had sports jerseys just lying around. No, normal and casual would have to do, he thought, as he pulled a long sleeved navy top from the drawers and pulled it over his wet head. It was only Alex after all.

He paused, midway through tugging his top on, and thought about it. _Only Alex?_ What a stupid thought – and who was he kidding? It was _because_ it was Alex. That girl could have asked him to scale Mount Everest with her just for kicks and he would have considered it. He could sure as hell manage to make himself semi presentable. He yanked off the top, folded it neatly, replaced it and looked again. After all, she only ever saw him at rehearsal, in dance clothes and mostly likely sweating profusely. And while she seemed to carry off the slight glisten upon flesh that had been working hard, he had no doubt it wasn't a fantastic look for him.

Blake shook his head again, as if to shake away the distracting thoughts of them in rehearsal and reached for a dark green long sleeved top – a similar style but newer and a little more acceptable. He tugged on some jeans, and went into the en suite which was still humid from the heat of the shower, and reached for some deodorant. Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he frowned once more at the thin pale boy before him. He looked tired, and grave, and so _serious_. You'd never know he was seventeen. He tried smiling, but it didn't quite reach his eyes just yet.

There was little he could do with his hair; it had grown a little longer, and most likely needed a cut, but there was nothing he could do about it now, short of picking up some scissors himself. And for a guy who could execute a perfect pirouette, his coordination and steady handedness would fail him when there was a sharp implement around. It was wet, but drying quickly, so he roughed it up a bit, sighed and returned to his room.

He had no idea why he was so _nervous; _it wasn't a date – her father would be there for Pete's sake. But still he couldn't get rid of the strange knotted sensation in his gut or the way his palms seemed to be sweating. Maybe it was the sheer exhilaration of the idea that he was getting out and doing something different, be it with a girl or not. It didn't matter what he was going to do he concluded, but the fact that for the first time in a long time, he was excited about the prospect of another person's company. Two people, actually, because although they hadn't spoken long, Blake had quite like William's easy charm and good humour. They would be a refreshing change from sitting down with Chase and his parents, not that he didn't love them. And what else would he have done this afternoon? He glanced at the bag hanging on the back of his door that had his dance shoes inside.

Dance wasn't all that made him who he was; he _had_ to be made of something more. He had to start stepping outside of the box, and in turn, letting people in, and to stop being defined by it. He had to be a person outside of his beloved shoes too.

Picking up his bag and turning off the light once he was satisfied it was all tidy (the mirror in the bathroom had been wiped, the towel hung up, and all toiletries returned to their cupboard), he crept down the stairs towards the door. Blake didn't really want another confrontation with his Mom. He had just about managed to get both sneakers on when his mother reappeared and leant against the door frame.

"You're leaving now?" she asked. He nodded.

"Who's playing?" she asked again.

"The...Atlanta Braves, and the Cleveland Indians," he repeated, trying to remember as he tied his shoelace. His mother nodded with a thoughtful expression, as if she had any idea what he was talking about.

"Will you be home late?" she asked, with genuine concern flooding her features. Blake sighed, adjusting his bag strap across his chest as he stood up straight and shrugged.

"I don't know – I'm not sure how long these things usually last. If I will be, I'll let you know ok?" he offered with a weak smile. Frances nodded and went to kiss his cheek. Nothing more was said by her, and she moved through to the lounge again, where Blake could hear classical music coming from. Stepping out the door, he breathed a sigh of relief. His parents had never stopped him doing anything like this before, simply because he'd never asked, and at the back of his mind had been the concern that his mother would put her foot down. She would have done, had she considered it a threat to his future career.

But here he was, strolling to his Mustang with a smile that threatened to split across his face from ear to ear if he didn't contain it better. He'd noticed that the idea of being with Alex had been having that effect on him lately; he'd never been deeply unhappy, but she certainly made his usually temperamental character a little more...easy going. Perhaps it was because _she_ was that way. It didn't take a genius to realise they were quite alike in personality and determination, but it was their attitudes towards life that were different. And she was certainly changing his perspective on things.

Perhaps, Blake wondered as he sat in the driver's seat for a moment, their similarities were why they had begun to gotten on so well – after they'd gotten past the bickering and stubborn tempers of course. Both his and hers. Slamming the door and starting the engine, he pulled out into the street and headed to Alex's, with the nervous feeling ebbing away to make for one of excitement.

XXXXX

"Nice attire," Blake smirked as Alex opened the door, greeting him with a wide beaming grin. She glanced down at her baseball shirt, and her hat – which was worn slightly askew, with her ponytail sticking out the back – and her baseball sneakers. She cocked an eyebrow.

"It's baseball, Collins," she said stepping aside, inviting him in. "There's a dress code."

"Well, then I'm not suitably dressed," he said, trying to smile but feeling very stupid. She shook her head, and closed the door behind him.

"I'm only teasing," she smiled. "It's kind of a tradition in our house." She wanted to add _and I wasn't going to change just for you_ but it wouldn't have come out of her mouth in the way she'd meant it, and Blake might have taken offense. What she meant was, she had no objections to Blake seeing her and her Dad the way they were. She was past pretending where he was concerned. He could either take her in her ratty baseball top or he could leave. But since he was already removing his shoes, and looking around the foyer with a faint smile, Alex couldn't see the latter happening.

Alex's house was exactly what he had expected, Blake observed, looking around. There were pictures of Alex _everywhere_; from the large foyer which seemingly led to every room on the ground floor and all the wall up the stairs, there was evidence of a proud father. Unlike his own home, the neutrality of the decor – cream walls and again, a beige carpet – didn't spell distance and coldness, it made it seem neat and homely. There were various potted plants around, he noticed - in bloom too.

"Is that Blake?" a voice called from the lounge area, where Blake could hear the television. It was clearly William, but he hadn't risen to say hello. Alex gestured for Blake to put his bag by the door, which he did, and led him through to the lounge.

"Yeah," Alex said behind Blake. "Here he is."

The older man turned to him sharply. "Alex tells me that your folks are Orioles fans," William said curtly, frowning at him.

"Well, hardly...I mean they are but I..." Blake started to say quickly, and nervously, remembering that William was an avid Red Sox fan. But William chuckled and cut him off.

"_Relax_. I'm just winding you up. Besides, I plan to make a Sox fan out of you yet." Blake smiled at the prospect of it and quirked an eyebrow.

"I doubt my father, as weak a supporter as he is, would appreciate that. He's Baltimore through and through."

"All the more reason to try," William quipped, staring at the TV. "You drink beer?" Alex's father asked with a serious face, lifting a bottle of Budweiser from his lap.

Blake laughed nervously. "Er...no, sir. I'm a minor, but er...dancing kind of demands a lifestyle without it," he answered quietly with a small smile. William paused, and grinned.

"I was just testing you."

"I know, sir."

"Ah, drop the sir thing, and call me William," Alex's father said. "Otherwise I'll take offense. I have no idea what you're used to, or how you've been raised, but I only ever get called sir when I go to the bank."

"Can I...get you a drink?" Alex asked, and for a second Blake thought he could hear a trace of the same nervousness in her voice as he had felt. But looking at her confident and assured face, he couldn't quite believe it. "A Coke?"

Blake nodded and said his thanks before quietly shuffling into the living room and taking a seat in an arm chair. The room, unlike the hallway, was a little more cluttered, but only because there were several bowls of snacks on the coffee table and as promised, a plate of carrot sticks. The house seemed to be, throughout, a clever combination of the two habitant's personalities; the world of dance and youthful homeliness from Alex, and the grownup sport enthusiast William. There were old ballet show posters, classical music lined on the shelf, right alongside posters of teams, and some country and western albums. He'd never thought of it until now, but with Alex's mother dead, she must have an active role in running the home. Far more active than anyone else he knew. It showed; the room was well dusted hovered, and it had certainly been decorated and furnished with a woman's eye, not the man sat to his left.

"The game's not started yet; there'll be about forty minutes of pre-match analysis," William explained, looking at Blake. Blake didn't speak, he just nodded, unsure what to say. He realised quite quickly he'd forgotten all the rules to the game – it had been that long since he'd sat down and watched – the commentator was talking about...pitching rotation and clutch hitting...but apart from the familiar diamond pitch and the jerseys, he suddenly felt out of his depth.

"Have you watched or played before?" William asked, as if sensing his discomfort.

"Not...for a while," Blake admitted, examining his watch strap. "And I never played."

"Basically," William began, leaning on the arm of his chair to get a little closer, and putting the TV on mute, "There are two teams – nine players each – and the goal is to get more runs than the other team, by using the four bases on the diamond. You with me so far?" the older man asked with a kind smile.

Blake nodded, listening intently. "Yeah I remember that."

"Right. The defence team pitches to the batting team, who have to try and hit it – out of the park preferably – in order to run to the bases. Home runs are ideal, because they equal four runs. You can get four by stopping at each base though. Anyways, you miss the ball, and it was a perfectly good pitch or in the 'strike zone', that leads to a strike. Three strikes and you're out."

Blake smiled. It was coming back, slowly but surely. "And you can be caught 'out' right?"

"Yup, you're safe at a base but when you're running..."

"That's when the batter becomes the runner..."

"Yeah," William responded with a smile at Blake's interruption. "Then you're game to be caught out. Either by getting the ball to the base before the runner gets there, or by catching it in the baseball mitt. Now this game," he said, pointing to the TV, "is the last in a series of six games between the finalists. Best of six, that's the idea. You know, the British stole Baseball and called it 'Rounders' – can you believe that?"

"Yeah, I can," Blake smirked.

"Anyway, have you got all that?" William said leaning back in his seat. Blake nodded, feeling much more relaxed. William's laidback nature was infectious, and so was his smile. Blake had to feel more at ease as the man pointed at the announcer and described him as a "washed out bigot with less sense than a Jersey Cow".

Alex wandered back in with two glass bottles; both filled with Coke, and placed them on the table. When she didn't sit down, Blake turned his head to look at her. She was gazing at the television with a serene smile, hands on hips and balancing her weight on one leg.

"You heading off?" William remarked, glancing at her also. _Heading off?_ Blake felt a frown begin on his face. To his surprise, Alex nodded.

"Yeah, I'll go now and then I won't miss the bulk of the game, or any if I'm lucky," she sighed. She felt Blake's eyes on her and smiled. "Sorry – I didn't mention. My pointe shoes snapped this morning, so gotta go get some more. The store's shut tomorrow and I obviously need them for Monday..." Alex trailed off as a look exchanged between her and Blake that her father missed; she supposed it wasn't exactly fair to leave him along with her Dad when they'd not known each other long, but William had sworn to be on his best behaviour, and she knew Blake could have a good time. If he allowed himself that was, she thought, as she watched him straighten up and seemingly drawn into himself with a tense expression.

"Well hurry up then," William said, shuffling in his chair. "I want to see the look on your face when your team _loses_ and mine _win_."

Blake smiled weakly. "I thought you were a Red Sox fan?"

"Yeah well," William said bitterly. "They didn't make it to the final," he sniffed. "So, the way we do it is whoever's in the final, Alex and I pick a team, and the loser has to give the other fifty dollars _and_ do a chore the other doesn't want to do."

Blake had to laugh at the idea of it, though he was a little jealous that his parents could never do anything so...well...fun.

"I got the Cleveland Indians this year," William continued.

"Go Atlanta Braves," Alex said, punching her fist into the air, before turning her attention to her father. "_Anyway_, the series is 3-2 at the minute. We're already ahead. If the Braves win this final, we win the World Series. And we're on form," she added with a wink at Blake that made him clear his throat.

"Just go..." William sighed in a dramatic voice. "We'll be fine."

"Shall I...take your card...and draw fifty dollars out?" she asked with a teasing, but inquisitive face.

"No, but you can think long and hard about how you're going to get the oil stains off of my barbeque," William grinned, blinking.

Alex raised an eyebrow, waved, and grabbed some keys from the dresser. Blake couldn't help but follow her form as she left the room, and until he heard the door slam, and when he finally turned back to the screen, he realised William's eyes were on him and they were filled with a strange, knowing expression that made Blake's knotted stomach and sweaty palms return. The man didn't speak for a moment, leaving them in an air thick with anticipation until William took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

"You've not seen any of this season?"

Blake shook his head guiltily.

"Did Alex mention she was a baseball fan?"

"She mentioned _you_ were," said Blake. William smiled fondly.

"How have you two been getting on? She's something huh?" William remarked, looking at the television and taking a sip from the Coke his daughter had bought him, having abandoned his empty beer bottle. Blake swallowed hard.

"She...certainly is a...really great person." He managed to quell his smile this time.

"Well, that's because she's a lot like her Mom, to her credit."

"I don't know," Blake noted, with a friendly smirk. "I see a lot of you in her. But then I didn't know her mother." William nodded and rose towards the mantelpiece, and picked up a photograph that rested there.

"This is Nina – my wife." Blake took it from him and looked at the woman in the picture; she was bent over in the garden, squinting at the camera from the flower beds, with an expression that implied she was surprised to find a camera pointing at her. He could see Alex in her immediately – in her face and frame, and they had the same dark brown hair. Only the eyes were remarkably different – Alex had William's bright eyes, and Nina's were a deep chocolate.

Blake handed it back. "Well, in looks, perhaps not, but Alex has always said you share the same temper."

William seemed to laugh to himself as he replaced the frame to its home. "Yeah, that's true enough." He paused, and sighed. "I'm proud of her – I guess she told you about her Mom right? Well, she was only young, and the only thing I could do at the time was to hold myself together for her, but as soon as she was old enough, she started to take care of us both. And of course she's balanced her schoolwork and the dancing."

Blake kept quiet and just listened.

"I don't exploit it or anything, but as I'm sure Alex has told you...I'm not the greatest housekeeper."

"She hadn't mentioned it."

"Well," William said with a raised eyebrow. "That's probably because she's modest. She doesn't get that from me – if I've got a talent, I'm gonna brag about it. Never once heard her boast about her dancing, and I'm sure you'll agree, she has something to boast about. Now I don't pretend to know anything about it...but when I watch her dance...it doesn't seem to matter, because she's doing something beautiful."

Blake sipped his drink and nursed the glass in his hands, cocking his head. "She's a very talented dancer. I enjoy working with her a lot."

"You do?"

"Yes, we dance well together." Blake paused, and before he could stop himself. "I enjoy her company. She's one of the few people I spend time with outside of school." _The only_, was what he meant, but he didn't want to come across as the pathetic loner he was.

William looked thoughtful as he looked at Blake's face. "I know she enjoys yours. She's certainly changed since you started dancing together. From what she's told me, and from what I can see myself, you're a good person Blake. I think you're a good influence on each other too; her technique's coming on and she's far more grounded. You've been a good friend to her."

Blake swallowed hard again, unsure what was coming. He was almost blushing under the man's flattery but it was slightly marred by an impending _but_.

"I've raised her to be wise, and savvy enough to see people for what they are. But she's still young and impressionable." William paused. "I just want her to be happy, and not to get hurt by...well, life, I guess. She's a good kid, and a 'really great person' just as you said," William said quietly focusing on the screen. "She's more special than people understand sometimes. And as a father, I couldn't sit and watch as she got hurt."

"I understand," Blake found himself saying. The meaning behind what he was saying was clear enough and it frightened him; if William could see it, if he was giving him a _warning_ not to hurt his daughter, then it must be real. He'd managed to ignore his crush up until now. But he was almost being given the approval by her father, if he honoured Alex and treated her well. That was serious. Blake levelled his breathing, and looked at the man with a smile. "She won't be."

William looked to him sharply. "I just thought I'd...set you straight on a few things. Set the record and tone at the beginning before it all got...serious," he said quietly. "You seem like a decent guy, so I'd hate to have to hunt you down and kill you."

Blake paled considerably and stiffened where he sat. "Kill me?"

"Oh yeah," William assured him before giving him a wry smile. "I'm just kidding. You're far easy to mess with."

Both men sat in silence for some time until William banged his glass down. "Come on, I cut carrot sticks for you – sliced my thumb doing it too - aren't you going to try some of the snacks?" Blake felt his concern fade away once more as he smiled weakly and leant forward to grab something to eat.

"Aren't you going to have something?" Blake asked politely. William's eyes darted towards what he was holding – a carrot stick – and the man grimaced.

"I'm allergic to vegetables," he insisted. "But thanks all the same." His attention went back to the screen as a whistle sounded.

"Great! That's typical. The game's started," William sighed, rising from his seat. "And now I need the bathroom."

XXXXX


	14. Dirty Little Secrets

_A/N: Part two of the baseball scene, with a bit more Hollins interaction, and Alex's view on Blake might be changing drastically too. Title is a bit lame – but it eludes to the fact that everyone has their secrets. The bit with the commentary features the actual words spoken in the 1995 World Series. Enjoy!_

Chapter 14 – Dirty Little Secrets

Alex turned off the stereo as she killed the engine of her truck, pausing briefly in her seat. Looking at the clock, she figured the game was nearing the end. It had taken longer than she would have liked; a major traffic build up on the way had meant it was murder getting close to the centre of Baltimore, and parking was always a little difficult. Then, for whatever reason, her usual go to for shoes was out of her size, meaning she had to go further in and search for another dance shop. That wasn't particularly difficult, given MSA being nearby and a lot of the young people in this area attended, but it was still a massive inconvenience.

She had done her best to hurry back – partly because she wanted to watch the game as she always did, partly because she had taken what her father had said a few nights prior and decided she was looking forward to spending some time with Blake. Something had changed in her mind, and there was a sudden surge in her to let him in to her world. Her Dad certainly liked him – from that brief encounter, she had to point out – and hadn't let a day go by without inquiring after him. Which she supposed was quite sweet; judging by his parents, Blake needed an adult in his life that would like him whether he could echappe or not.

So Alex had looked forward to today, though neither she nor Blake had said a word about it apart from exchanging times, and here she was, missing it. Plus, her father was hilarious during games; he got so into it. She could only hope they hadn't fallen out while she'd been gone, she thought as she grabbed her shopping bag and got out of the car. Or worse, she thought again, paling a little - her father had brought up something embarrassing. It was entirely plausible, if he thought he could get a rise out of Blake – and with no Alex to keep him in check, William was an unstoppable force.

Stepping towards the house, she opened the door quietly. The volume of the TV had gone up since she left, but that wasn't the only sound she could hear.

Raised voices.

The initial emotion was panic; her father often got into the game, but she could hear Blake's voice too, crying just as loud and that was what made her drop her bag and shoot into the lounge. Blake only ever shouted at her – and if she wasn't there, what could there possibly be to make him lose his solid nerve? The first sight that met her eyes was the picture of both men sat forward in their chairs, their faces mapped with intense concentration and in her father's case, infuriation.

"_And Mark Wohlers is stepping out to pitch the ninth inning and the final one of the match – this is the Indian's last chance to even it up with the Braves. Now Wohlers favours the fastball and clocked an impressive 103 mph in a training session earlier this year – it'll be interesting to see what he comes up with,_" the commentator said excitedly.

"Come on, Baerga – don't let me down," her father muttered aggressively.

Blake scoffed, and took a sip of his drink. "Ha! The way he's been playing? He's not known which way is up since the game started!"

William raised his arms in a defensive way. "Hey now Mr. Hotshot – let's see you under that amount of pressure! He's got the World Series riding on his back. You'd sweat a little too I reckon, boyo."

Blake gave him a crooked smile. "Excuses excuses, William. You're sinking fast."

Alex started back a little. _William?_ A far cry from 'Sir', or 'Mr. Hale'. They could have been father and son in that cosy setting. Making Blake her brother, she realised with some alarm. Which she was glad that he wasn't, because she couldn't help but look at his forearms tensing as he screwed his fists up with frustration. She shook the thoughts out of her head – they were surprising and she couldn't recall exactly how they'd got there. When did she start admiring Blake Collins' physique in a non-professional way?

William turned his head to retort something and spotted Alex. "Oh hey Bug," he said, still sounded annoyed. "You're just in time to see the end. Are you alright?" he asked suddenly. "You look...peaky."

"Fine, just annoyed I've missed it. Going well?" she inquired, perching on the arm of a chair.

"Oh yeah," Blake answered over his shoulder. "The Braves are ahead, and your father's in denial." William growled in his direction, and Alex and Blake exchanged a broad smile.

"Better get your rubber gloves ready pops," Alex said in a sing song voice, earning a beer nut in the side of head for her troubles.

The commentator piped up again in his gruff voice. "_Mark gets the sign...the line and the pitch...here it is! Long! Fly ball, big left centre – Grissom on the run! YEAH! The Atlanta Braves have won the Championship! Listen to this crowd!"_

Alex watched the replay of as the batter hit the ball, and as he ran, the camera panned to watch as the baseball flew right through the air...and straight into the glove of one of the fielders.

"No!" her father cried, lifting his hands to head in horror.

"Marquis Grissom just..." Blake was saying shaking his head, with an expression of confused awe. "He should be a ballerina – that was _elegant_ footwork."

The Atlanta Braves were all piling on top of one another on the screen with cries and cheers. "_A mob scene on the field..." _crackled the commentator over the noise.

"Damn you Carlos Baerga – now I have to clean the bathroom," William said sulkily, falling back into his seat.

Alex smiled. "I told you we'd win. Baerga is a great second baseman but he couldn't hit a pole if it was stood still," she remarked, rising from where she had been sat.

Blake stared at her with a bright expression of awe that he knew must match the one he had when she'd suddenly started rambling about the mechanics of his car. She'd been right too; he'd hunted down the car part and taken it to a garage to be fitted, and Isadora was running as if there had never been anything wrong. "You really know the game well, don't you?" he remarked. She shrugged and moved through to the kitchen, presumably to get herself a drink.

"Didn't Alex tell you she used to play?" William said with an expression of marvel. Blake raised an eyebrow.

"No, she didn't."

"Yeah, only little league obviously. Right up until she started at MSA, which was when she was...fifteen. Obviously she put dance first, but she still likes a game or two now and then with her old team mates. Well, I say that. She's not played in a while. She was good too – a good pitcher and a good batter."

"Yeah, I'd noticed she was pretty good at hitting things," Blake said wistfully, recalling how she'd punched him a few days ago on the arm in rehearsal when he'd criticised her grand jete for not being extended enough. William smiled to himself.

"She's probably a bit annoyed she missed the game," her father commented. "I'll go see if she's ok."

"No, I'll go," Blake offered. "You said you wanted to see the after match analysis. And besides, I need another drink." William watched as the young man rose from his chair, where he'd been sat quite comfortably for the past hour and a bit, and smirked. Blake had warmed right into the game, and let himself go before he'd had any chance to realise what was happening. William knew it had been a good idea to invite him when, as David Justice scored a home run, Blake cheered and laughed. Having not heard the boy laugh outwardly before, it was a good thing to hear it fill the room, and knowing that it didn't happen often, William felt privileged.

XXXXX

Alex was pouring herself a glass of orange juice with her back to the door when she'd realised someone else had walked into the kitchen. Turning around, and expecting to see her father, she was met with Blake – standing up straight, sleeves pushed to the elbow, and looking at her as he always did.

"How did your search for shoes go?" he asked.

"I got a pair. Have to break them in first of course but I'll be do that tomorrow," she smiled. "You want a drink?"

Blake nodded. She pulled another glass from the shelf as he sat down at one of the stools of the kitchen's breakfast bar and watched her. He wasn't quite sure what to say; he had slipped into an easy rapport with William, and now Alex had returned the same strange constricted feeling his gut had gone with it. He had just about come to terms with the idea that he _liked_ her, and William's warning had given him hope – that her father considered him a serious enough candidate to warrant the setting of boundaries. But did that mean Alex was going to reciprocate his feelings? Not at all – Blake had never gotten an idea before that she felt anything more towards him than gratitude and maybe a certain fondness.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asked, sliding the glass across to him and taking a stool herself. She'd never enjoyed the post match analysis and usually left after that. It didn't seem right to rub her victory in her father's face with Blake there either; she didn't exactly feel like a winner when she'd seen less than a minute of the game. Her friend nodded with a smile spreading across his face.

"Against all odds," he joked, copying his mother's tone and managing to make her smile again. "I never thought I'd get that into it, but your Dad's rather infectious."

"He's the best," she agreed with a fond expression.

"So – you're an ex-baseball player then?" Blake smiled. She shrugged in a non confirming way and muttered something that sound like 'I guess so'. Blake sighed. "You continue to surprise me at every turn. Waitress, baseball player, pick-up truck driver..." He hadn't meant to sound so teasing – after all, he meant it genuinely – but she smirked and cocked an eyebrow anyway.

"Coming from you. It seems the Blake Collins everyone else knows isn't the one I'm privy to."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

She ticked them off on her long fingers with a smile. "You adore your little brother, however mad he drives you, and would do anything to make his life better. You got a job and paid for your own car, when your parents could have gotten you one in a second if you'd have asked. Without the lovable rust patches. You eat ice cream, albeit occasionally. And you work at a sportswear store," she said finally with a knowing grin, sipping her drink. She quite enjoyed having the upper hand on him, and fortunately for her it happened quite regularly. "You have your secrets too Blake Collins, so don't act as if mine are criminal."

Blake's eyes flashed with something she couldn't read, making her wonder if she'd trod a little too far. But there was a pause, and he adopted a quiet smile. "How do you know where I work?"

"I have my sources," she said in a melodic tone, but seeing his face, she relented. "One of my old Little Leaguers. I believe you know a Chloe Montag," Alex explained. "She works in the baseball department?"

Blake took a deep breath. "Ah yes. I know Chloe." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. A nice enough girl, Chloe was a tomboy with braces and a kind face.

"Well, we're still in touch, and I mentioned you to her, when we first started being partners. And she told me you worked together," she said, examining her hands with a frown.

"What else did she tell you about me?" Blake asked.

"Apparently you're really quiet, but you get stock work done faster than anyone else. And you use your forty per cent discount in the dancewear section." She propped her chin up on her arm, resting her elbow on the counter and grinned. Blake seemed to be chewing his cheek with chagrin.

"Yes. We stock major dance brands at the back of the store," he said finally, and in a low mutter.

She laughed at his tone and rolled her eyes. "Well maybe I should have taken you with me to get my shoes and you could have gotten me some Bloch's with forty percent off?"

"I would consider that an exploitation of my employee privileges," said Blake wryly, finishing his drink.

"Just one question," Alex said, growing a little more serious, and leaning closer as she looked at him, apparently searching his face for her answer. "Why is it such a big deal? Why do you let everyone think you're this stuck up, obnoxious rich kid when you're not?" she asked. "You're a good person, who cares for his brother and would rather work hard than live off of someone else's back. That's nothing to be ashamed of. I don't understand"

He held up his hands and shrugged. "People expect something from me, and they don't bother to look past it. I can't help that."

"And you don't bother to put them straight," Alex remarked, picking up their empty glasses and taking them to the sink.

Blake paused, and before he could say anything she was talking again. "Don't get me wrong. I really like who you are, all this 'facade' stuff aside. I wish everyone else could see it."

He thought about it. "No one would believe you anyway. 'King Collins' doesn't have an easy going side. I can just see you telling Jane that we went for ice cream," he said with a faint smirk, almost chuckling to himself. Alex smiled too.

"She'd have a heart attack. She already thinks we're secretly dating."

Blake would have choked if he'd have been eating or drinking. "Really?" he asked in a falsetto voice.

"Yeah," Alex said with a frown. "She hinted at it a couple days ago."

"How strange."

"She was probably joking but...well," Alex observed, looking out of the window. "It's not really _that _odd an assumption. If you think about it, I spend all my time with you, including my spare time now," she added with a kind smile. "From the outside world, I suppose it might look like that. And we're like two peas in a pod when you think about it. Except, of course, you have way more faults than me."

Blake scoffed. "In what universe is that then?" He wasn't sure what else to say – she'd just about admitted that to the outside world, and to them, they seemed like a logical pairing. Was that an indication? Or just an observation? Relationships were hard work, Blake concluded with a heavy sigh. That was probably why he didn't embark on many of them.

But putting all _logical _feelings aside, and if he were to go on what his heart was saying, it was that for the first time in a long time he was happy, and he was convinced his happiness would be greatly increased if he could just lean across the breakfast bar and kiss her.

"Laugh it up all you want, Blake Collins," Alex said, causing him to turn his attention back to reality rather sharply. She was cheerful again and rootling in the freezer for something. "Ice cream?" she grinned, pulling out a small tub. He eyed it curiously and hesitated. "It's not Andre's," she sighed sadly, falling into her seat wearily, with two spoons in one hand and the ice cream in the other. "But it's still pretty good."

"I don't know," Blake said quickly, raising his hands in a kind of gesture to stop her. "Your Dad already rammed some Doritos down my throat and made me eat three Twinkie bars. I think I'd be pushing it with Ben and Jerry's."

She gave him a reproachful look and slid the tub over to him. "Join me on the dark side, Blake."

He hadn't said anything, face still unsure, when she handed him a spoon with a smug look that told him this was a challenge, and backing down would make him a coward. Which he was not, he thought, taking the spoon.

"This is starting to feel like a torrid affair," he remarked, dipping his spoon into the tub. "I blame you. You've drawn me into temptation."

"You're the one that made ice cream your secret lover, Blake," Alex said in a soft voice, wiggling her eyebrows at him. "Here in begins your long and painful journey down a road of heartache and secrecy."

"The only thing that will be painful," Blake concluded, swallowing a mouthful, "will be my mother's punishment when she finds out how much junk I've been eating."

"Who says she has to know?" Alex asked slyly.

"You're corrupting me, you know that?" Blake said weakly, and all Alex could do in reply was pop a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth with a smile.

XXXXX

"Well, I should probably head off," Blake concluded as he looked at the clock on the Hale's mantelpiece. It was past nine, and although he felt he could easily have stayed a lot longer, he was beginning to feel tired and he had work in the morning. He rose, prompting William to do so to, and Alex, who had been sat cross legged on the floor.

"Sure thing," William said, stretching after being sat down for so long. "But you know you're welcome in this house any time. For the smallest thing. You ever need a place to stay, I'll kick Alex out of her room and she can have the couch."

Blake shook his head as Alex play punched her Dad on the shoulder with a menacing glare. "I don't think that will be necessary, but thank you, sir."

"Back to 'sir' are we?"

"Sorry...force of habit," Blake grinned apologetically.

"Blake was raised with _manners_, Dad," Alex explained. "You might not recognise them."

William sniffed, scratching his head. "Manners? Isn't that a type of Jewish bread?"

The two teens groaned quietly and Blake turned to go to the doorway. "Thanks...for a great day," Blake managed awkwardly, looking at the both. "It was a lot fun."

"Like I said," William insisted, taking the boy by the shoulders. "Any time."

He left shortly after and they both heard the purr of the Mustang as it fired up on the street and pulled away. Alex began clearing away the empty snack bowls immediately, stacking them, grabbing glasses where she could and began ferrying them through to the kitchen.

"Not a bad kid," William remarked, following her with some beer nuts and tossing some into his mouth.

"No, he isn't really," his daughter replied, filling the sink with hot water, staring out of the window. "You know I'm actually quite proud of you," she grinned, sounding like a pleased schoolteacher. "You managed to not embarrass either of us significantly, and I think that's a great accomplishment for you."

William mock bowed.

"And you obviously got along well – when I came back from town, you were best buddies," she teased.

"Yeah, once I got 'the Talk' out of the way, he really lightened up."

Alex spun on her heels with soapy hands and eyes as wide as dinner plates. "You did _what_?"

William, who was putting bags of chips back in the cupboard, looked over at her blankly. "I gave him 'The Talk'."

"What _talk_?" his daughter almost whispered.

"You know...the 'I know you like my daughter and if you hurt her, I'll kill you' talk," William said nonchalantly, waving a hand. He wiggled his eyebrows. "It went well."

Alex's mouth gaped open and she screwed up her eyes. "You _didn't_!"

"Well...it was a little more flowery than that," he admitted. "I carefully explained that you were very special and I wasn't going to see you get hurt."

"Why on earth would you do a thing like that?" Alex cried, drying her hands angrily. "I thought you wanted us to be friends! You've probably creeped the poor guy out!"

"I would have thought my reasons for doing it were obvious, Bug," William frowned. "The boy likes you. I figured I'd lay down some ground rules."

"We're just _friends_!"

"Oh come on – the kid couldn't take his eyes off you all night. Laughing at your jokes, teasing you. He's not exactly Mr. Subtle."

"You're delusional."

"I'm sorry," her Dad shrugged. "I call it like I see it. And it's not exactly one sided either," William retorted, leaving the kitchen. Alex stormed after him and watched as he retreated into the living room; a strange heat was working its way up her spine. She couldn't tell if her Dad was teasing her, or if he was telling the truth about Blake, and the very idea that he might be was making her feel flustered and hot.

"I take back what I said about being proud of you." She folded her arms and glowered at him. "And I think you should see Dr. Kellstein soon. You're _clearly_ going through some kind of psychological trauma. There is something seriously the matter with you." And with that she returned to the kitchen, leaving William to chuckle to himself over her outburst.


	15. All The Fun Of The Fair

_A/N: OK, just a few things to clarify. The inspiration for this chapter, or rather a song that I listened to a lot whilst writing it is "Rhythm of Love" by The Plain White T's. There's something very laidback about it and it worked well with the general feeling behind what this chapter entails (minus the Ferris wheel thing). Secondly, I was going to put a hold on this one, and have the setting in this chapter for their first date but I decided to bring it forward and use it as an opportunity for them (Blake and Alex) to draw even closer and have a good time together. There are a lot of individual events that happen, but they're all significant in their own way, so bear with them. It's a bit shameless and maybe a bit silly but there you go. I got the idea for it the other day when I was at a children's indoor play centre (with my many, many siblings) and the plot bunny just wouldn't leave me be. So that's why this is in here...and I hope you like it!_

Chapter 15 – All The Fun Of The Fair

It was a week later, and the phone rang shrilly, making Alex rise from the dining table where she was doing her homework to answer it. She darted forward to catch it in time, and answered it a little breathlessly. "Hale residence," she breathed, holding the receiver to her ear. "Who's speaking please?"

"Alex, it's me," said the voice at the other end. "Blake."

Alex caught sight of herself in the mirror in the hallway and noticed the blush that was creeping across her cheeks once she'd heard who it was. She turned her back on her reflection and tossed her loose hair from her eyes, trying to even her voice. "Hey – is something the matter?"

"Not at all," he replied and there was a crackle in the line as he paused at his end. "I was just wondering if you were working tonight."

"No, it's my night off. Why?"

"Well..." Blake sounded as if he was a little distracted and sure enough, she heard the sound of someone whispering to him, and the low hiss of "_I'm on the phone, Chase" _in reply. "Sorry. I have a small child hanging off of my arm. Chase!" She stifled a giggle as there were muffled noises in the earpiece until finally, with a satisfied sigh, Blake spoke again. "Sorry about that."

"You sound as if you've got your hands full."

"When haven't I with my little brother? Anyway, I rang because my parents are out of town, so I'm taking Chase to the fun fair."

"That's nice," she replied lamely, playing with the phone cord.

He cleared his throat and went on. "I was actually wondering if you wanted to come too. It's just, otherwise it'll be just me and Chase, and I could use some sane company my own age."

"So everyone else said no, and you thought you'd try me?"

There was a soft laugh down the phone and when he answered she could hear the smile on his lips. "Something like that. I even tried Reynolds but he couldn't fit me into his busy schedule."

"I don't imagine he could," Alex sniggered. "Now what was it you called him again? A Neanderthal?"

"Ah, no. I said he resembled the creature that crawled out of the primordial ooze," Blake corrected. "I think a Neanderthal might be _too_ evolved for a fair comparison." He paused and took a deep breath. "So...tonight? I know the fun fair might not be your idea of a good time..."

"No, I'd love to come!" she urged, a little too eagerly, and quickly checked herself. "I haven't been to one in years."

"I'll come get you at seven then. I warn you though – Chase is very excited about seeing you."

"He is?"

"He's jumping up and down as we speak." He did sound as if he was struggling with something down the other end and Alex didn't have trouble picturing the small blonde boy using his brother as a climbing frame. She didn't bother to fight her laughter as Blake continued talking. "It was his idea to ring you. I just happened to agree with him."

"I can't believe he still remembers me," Alex scoffed. "I've been to your house once, and he must have so many people going in and out of his life."

"You're mentioned a lot in our house," Blake admitted.

"Ah," she smiled, biting her lip.

"So I'll see you at seven?"

"Definitely."

"Bye then," Blake said, and then, as an afterthought, "Oh, and wrap up warm. It's...er...cold out."

"Thanks, I will," she said, softening at his concerned tone, and replacing the phone in its holder.

XXXXX

Chase's face was pressed against the window of Isadora, watching excitedly as Alex closed the front door to her house – wrapped up in her coat, gloves and a scarf – and sprinted over to the car. She could see Blake scolding his brother for leaving smears all over the glass, but when she got in, he whipped around sharply and gave her a weak smile, jerking a thumb at the hyperactive seven year, bouncing in his seat.

"I told you he was excited about seeing you," Blake muttered in a low voice.

"Hey Alex!" Chase squealed. "We're going to the fair!"

"I know," she laughed, pulling on her seatbelt. "I take it you're looking forward to it?"

"You bet!"

"He's hardly said a word about it on the way over," Blake deadpanned, pulling away.

"He's an excited child – give him a break," Alex whispered, grinning and shivering a little. It was a cold night; as the days edged closer to the winter months, the weather forecast began to threaten snow and frost more often and tonight was no exception. She was wearing five layers including her coat and Alex was still freezing cold. She gave him a grateful smile when, seeing her bury her chin in her scarf, Blake leant forward to turn the heating up.

Alex received Chase's entire life history on the way to the fairground, and they'd barely been on the road for five minutes when she realised she knew his favourite colour, the entirety of his break up and reunion with his 'girlfriend' and how he'd tried to spin on his head and nearly knocked himself out. Blake kept quiet mostly, only speaking if he was spoken to. Chase's demeanour was exuberant and slightly infectious; both she and Blake began to laugh with Chase by the time they had parked the car. The actual fairground was in the city centre, on a large park. She'd seen it advertised before, but never been; she'd always been busy, or working. At the entrance, Blake had waved her money away and handed the girl in the ticket booth a handful of dollar bills and took the ticket strip from her with a polite smile.

"Ok," he said seriously, like a teacher conducting a school trip. He curled the strip round and put it in his pocket for safe keeping. "What are we going on first?"

"The dodgems! No, the bouncy castle! Or can we eat first? Maybe the Ghost train?" Chase said, firing his suggestions at them. Blake raised an eyebrow.

"I think its ladies' choice tonight Chase," he said, cocking his head in Alex's direction. Chase looked a little put out before sighing dejectedly and folding his arms.

"Ok...what would _you_ like to do?" the little boy asked.

"I don't mind," she shrugged. "Whatever Chase wants," she added, looking at Blake. The young man rolled his eyes.

"As if he isn't spoilt enough. I bring you a long for moral support, and he's won you over with his big blue eyes and boyish charm too. Pick something," Blake urged. "Chase can drag us around for the rest of the night. You said you haven't been in years."

"Fine," she said, elongating the word exasperatedly. "The...dodgems."

She knew from Chase's fist pump it had been a wise choice.

XXXXX

"That was awful," Alex mumbled as they came out of the ghost train, Chase running ahead of them a little bit, but just within sight. She'd not been keen to go on it in the first place, but she didn't want to stand outside in the cold and wait, and neither could she stand Blake's smirk when she acted hesitant. He'd laughed when she told him about the last time she'd gone on a ghost train – a story that involved her getting caught on some of the spooky paraphernalia and being rescued by a particularly gruesome looking ghoul. And although he didn't say a word, his shrug and quiet 'ok' seemed to scream 'scaredy cat'. She didn't know which had embarrassed her more; actually getting frightened in the dark tunnel or the part where she'd buried her face into Blake's shoulder to hide. He hadn't said a word until the end where he patted her arm and, fighting laughter, told her it was ok to look again. Chase had been clutching his side from laughing so hard.

"You didn't have to come," Blake told her, offering her the last of the bag of sweets they'd bought earlier. He was glad she had though, if just for her grabbing hold of him. She declined, still feeling nauseous.

"Oh yes I did. Like you'd let me live down the fact that a seven year old is braver than I am."

"What makes you think I'm going to let you live down the fact that you screamed when the mannequin sprung out of the coffin?"

She sniffed haughtily, and tucked some hair behind her ears. "It was a very convincing vampire."

"Yes, I agree. Almost as convincing as that skeleton that was made from clothes hangers," Blake said flatly.

"I hope you're not being sarcastic?" Alex asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Blake! Blake! Can you do the machine?" Chase suddenly cried, interrupting their moment by running back and tugging on his brother's arm. He was pointing at a claw machine near a popcorn stand which was adorned with the words "_A Prize Every time!" _Alex stooped down to Chase's height and wrinkled her nose.

"Sweetie, those things are fixed. It's a waste of time and money trying to win one of the toys in there," she explained, smiling at his naivety.

"Na-uh – Blake is really good at them!" He frowned at her and looked up at Blake, his blue eyes wide with hope. "Can you Blake? Please?" His brother looked down at him with a reproving look before giving an exaggerated sigh, feigning being broken down and defeated by Chase and rolled his eyes.

"Ok, _fine_," he said, walking over, readying his tickets. "Which one do you want?"

Alex watched in amazement as Chase stood on tiptoes to look through the glass box and his eyes darted from one stuffed toy to the next. "That one!" he cried suddenly, pointing at one, pressing a finger hard against the box. "Bert and Ernie!" He looked back at Alex. "I'm Ernie, and Blake is Bert."

She snickered at how true the comparison was. "You are such a push over," Alex whispered to Blake. "Waste of tickets, Collins."

"Watch and learn, Hale," Blake hissed back as he slid a ticket into the machine and made a show of flexing his fingers, making Alex laugh softly even though it was more likely for Chase's benefit. The metal claw jerked to life as he began to move the joystick, and eventually stopped, hovering over Chase's chosen toy. Alex stared, incredulous, as the claw lowered with its arms extended and picked the toy up easily, before sliding back to its original starting point. It dropped the toy in the hatch and Chase fished it out gleefully, squeezing it tightly to his chest.

"Yes!" he whooped. "Thank you Blake!"

Blake simply ruffled his brother's hair as they paced away, and looked at Alex with a smug expression, as if expecting her to praise him too.

"You couldn't do that again," she stated simply, folding her arms indignantly. "That had to be a fluke."

He stared at her, but didn't look angry, and he turned and walked back over to the machine. "Oh ye of little faith," he sighed, fishing a ticket from his pockets and feeding it in. "My mother says it's a worthless talent," he remarked over his shoulder, just as Alex joined his side again, amazed that he was even attempting it. "But as you can see it can be quite useful when you have a brother like Chase...Carebear?"

"Pardon me?"

Blake pointed to a turquoise stuffed bear, buried amongst all the others, with a star symbol on its chest. "Do you think we should go for the Carebear?" he repeated.

"Sure. Why not?" she smiled.

He took hold of the joystick again, moving it slowly to just above the bear's head, re-tweaking its position a couple of times before pressing the button firmly. The claw picked it up easily, making Alex expel a short sharp laugh and lay a hand on his back with surprise. He met her eyes with a weak smile and shrugged.

"You did it! You actually did it twice in a row," she laughed as he bent down to collect it.

"I told you I would."

"Well, I take it back. And I bow down to your superior claw machine skills," she smiled.

He snorted and turned the bear over in his hands, looking at it thoughtfully. "Here," Blake said casually, handing it to her, and meeting her eyes. "You can have it."

She stared at it for a moment and then returned her gaze to his face. He looked somehow brighter from all the excitement; younger, carefree, and about a million miles from the thunderous sullen boy she'd been introduced to at the start of school. His hair was hanging in his eyes a little, teased by the wind, and he was giving her a strange barely-there smile. She knew that she was staring at him and would have to say something before she made a total idiot of herself. "For me?" she managed.

"To remind you not to underestimate me," he smirked. Alex took it roughly as she rolled her eyes, but held it close to her chest as they started to walk away.

"Thank you," she blushed, hoping he couldn't see it in the dark. "No one's ever given me a stuffed animal from a claw machine before," she admitted, completely deadpan.

"That's because you've not met anyone up to this point who's been good enough to win you one."

She nudged him with her elbow. "I see modesty isn't one of your hidden talents. How _did_ you get so good at claw machines?"

He chuckled and put his hands in his pockets, strolling slowly besides her. "I don't know. I just win every time. I don't suppose there's any real skill involved."

"Well, _Wish Bear_," she said, reading the tag, "is going to take pride of place in my bedroom to remind me that there is more to Blake Collins besides his ability to dance."

"There's _a lot_ more to me than just dance," he pointed out, in an exasperated way, tutting at her.

"Enlighten me."

"I can cook a little, I'm a good babysitter," He trailed off as he thought a little harder, "_and_ if you ever need anything alphabetising, I'm your man. Had my entire music collection done in just an hour."

"Whoa, steady on there Mr. Exciting," Alex deadpanned.

Blake stopped and folded his arms. "I think I'm going to have to take that bear back," he said, giving her a crooked grin.

"Why?"

"I don't want you to have it now. You're mocking my talents."

"Talents? Anyone who knows the alphabet can put letters in order Blake."

"Ah, but can they do it as quickly?"

Alex gave him a look. "Probably not." He puffed his chest out proudly. "But then no one else would be lame enough to try."

"That's it," he snapped, "Give me that bear." He tried to snatch it from her but she put it behind her back. He didn't dare reach around her for it, but their faces were very close. Close enough to see her lashes clearly. Close enough to kiss, Blake realised.

"The bear is mine, Collins," she said in a low voice, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards.

"Fine," he shrugged, moving away, although he could have easily stepped even closer into her space and pressed his lips to hers. "I don't need the bear anyway..." He stopped suddenly and looked around him, remembering something. "Where's Chase?"

Alex scanned the fairground for any sign of him. "I have no idea, he was right there."

"Did he say anything? Where he was going?"

"No," Alex said. "He was talking about his toy."

"Check the food court, I'll head towards the rides," Blake commanded quickly, feeling the panic rising in his chest. He'd been so focused on Alex – the touching, the looks, the flirting – that he'd completely forgotten about his brother. _So much for being a great babysitter_, he thought bitterly, mentally cursing himself as he jogged through the crowds towards the Dodgems. He could be anywhere in this place. Would he know what to do if he got lost? Blake frowned as he turned around to try and see him, trying to put himself in the mind of his brother. Where would he go if he was Chase Collins?

"Hey! Hey Blake! Up here!"

The relief was instantaneous as Chase's voice filled his ears. Blake looked around for him and then cast his eyes heavenward to see his brother in a car on the Ferris Wheel, waving like a maniac, with a grin as long as the Staten Island Ferry. It wasn't a large wheel but Chase was nearing the top, and becoming a smaller figure by the second.

"Chase!" he called loudly. "What are you doing on there?

"Riding with Bert and Ernie!" Chase cried back, lifting his toy to show his brother. "Bert's frightened of heights just like you!"

Blake ran his fingers through his hair, incensed. "You're not even tall enough to ride on that thing without an adult!" He threw a steely glare at the attendant of the contraption, who – along with the queue of people – was watching Blake with interest.

"Blake, you should have a go! It's really high!" Chase squealed. "I can almost see our house from here."

Alex suddenly appeared by Blake's side, having seen him in the crowd. "He's not near any of the..." she trailed off and followed his gaze to see what he was looking at. "Ah, you found him."

"Yes," Blake said through his teeth, breathing heavily. "Wreaking havoc and doing whatever the hell he wants, as usual. And I was headed to the Dodgems," he joked mirthlessly, walking around the railings that encased the queue for the Wheel. "I should have just thought of the place he would go if he wanted to cause the most trouble."

"Alex!" Chase waved. "Look at me!" The cart wobbled a little, making Blake shoot forward.

"Get down from there!"

"I can't," Chase giggled. "The man said I had to stay seated for the whole ride."

"Relax," Alex said soothingly, trying to keep up and seeing that he was tense; he had put his hands on his hips, glaring up at his brother, and was breathing so deeply he was expelling large billows of breath into the cold night air. "It's ok Blake."

"I took my eyes off him," Blake muttered. "I should have been watching him."

"It could have been worse," she pointed out quietly. "You're lucky to have a brother who was satisfied enough to stay in the fairground and not run off into Baltimore."

Chase's car came to a stop and the attendant let him out, and the little boy ran straight over. The carefree smile on his face told them both that he didn't care how much he'd frightened them. He'd just had too good a time to be bothered. "Did you see how high I went!" he yelped, jumping into a starfish shape and blinking at them with his arms stretched out above him, waiting for them to be as amused as he was.

"What on earth were you thinking?" Blake said sternly, bending down and taking his brother by the shoulders. Chase's face fell. "I didn't know where you were. You must never run off, especially without telling me where you're going!" The boy's bottom lip quivered a little as his brother raised his voice to him.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to go on the Ferris Wheel."

"I know, Chase. But you've got to think things through. You could have been hurt or taken."

"Blake..." Alex tried to say.

"I didn't want to dis-dis-turb you," Chase sniffed, fighting tears. "You looked like you were having a good time," he explained, looking from his brother to Alex. "I thought you'd be mad so I just went. I was gonna come back, I promise."

Blake sighed heavily, looking to Alex with eyes laden with guilt. "It's ok, Chase," he reassured his brother. "Just...don't do it again," he said weakly, ruffling his hair again before rising and standing up straight. "Perhaps we had better go home," he suggested. "It's late and very cold."

"Good idea," Alex said, watching Chase rub his eyes.

They walked away from the fair in a perturbed silence; Blake's telling off had killed Chase's mood, Alex wasn't sure what to say to her friend, and Blake was filled with remorse over the way he'd chastised Chase. He shouldn't have run away, but it was hardly his fault; he had seen his brother enjoying himself with Alex and not wanted to spoil that. And for someone so young, Chase was very perceptive. The seven year old knew that when Blake was with Alex, he was happier, and he wanted to see him happy. But by the time he bundled him in the car, Chase was more sleepy than put out, and started talking to Alex about nonsensical things before falling asleep on the highway. Alex had gone quiet too, looking at her mittens, with the bear Blake had won sat in her lap.

"Trust Chase to bring the evening to an eventful close," Blake tried, when they paused at some lights. "Sneaking on to a Ferris Wheel."

She turned to him with a smile. "He's certainly good at making things memorable."

"I feel bad for shouting at him like I did," Blake admitted, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"He'll get over it. Kids do."

"I know, and no one bounces back like Chase. Then it's just me left with the guilt." He shook his head. "I don't know – tonight was supposed to be a treat, and now all he'll remember is me getting angry."

Alex watched him carefully. She felt almost privileged to be privy to Blake's insecurities – she knew full well no one else got to glimpse the real Blake Collins as she did, and in an attempt to reassure him she touched his shoulder affectionately.

"You're a good brother to him, you know that?"

He flashed her a grateful smile, but something behind his eyes told her that he didn't believe her. "I just try to give Chase all the stuff normal kids should have. Growing up, I didn't have a brother that would fight my corner and remind my parents that I needed to do...you know, _kids stuff,_ as well as dance. They don't like it, but I make sure that Chase doesn't miss out. I don't know what's going to happen when I leave."

"When you leave?"

"To join a company," he explained. "The plan is London or New York, if I'm lucky."

"You'll be fine," she said softly. "And so will Chase."

"Or he'll resent me for it," Blake sighed, reversing into Alex's drive. She looked out at her street, surprised that it had gone so quickly, but then again, when she was with Blake and enjoying herself, time seemed impossible to hold on to. He cleared his throat as a signal that he was done talking about it and Alex didn't push him. "Thanks for coming tonight," he murmured, glancing back at the sleeping boy in the back of the car. "I appreciated the help."

"I had a good time," said Alex, smiling warmly. An oppressive silence fell, in which they both felt someone should do or say something, but neither did. In the end, Alex said goodbye and got out, telling him she'd see him Monday. He watched her go, giving William a wave when he saw the man appear at the doorway, before driving away to their own home.

It wasn't exactly a date, he thought, as he drove along. How many people took their kid brothers along on dates? He had just wanted her company, and there was nothing wrong with that. But he couldn't help but feel a little hopeful; there had been moments tonight – accidental brushes, smiles and stares at lingered too long – where he was certain that there was something more there between them than his own feelings. But Alex was so hard to gage, and he couldn't tell what would happen if he were just to come out with it, and ask her out. He'd have to take it carefully because, after seeing her clutching that Carebear and knowing she was going to keep it, he did not want to screw it up.


	16. Go Ahead, Make My Day

_A/N: Title comes from the movie 'Sudden Impact' and is a quote said by Clint Eastwood's character Harry Callahan. I chose it because of the double edged meaning; on one hand, as you'll see, it's antagonistic. On the other, Alex and Blake have become the thing that makes each other's day, especially when they've had a difficult one. _

Chapter 16 – Go Ahead, Make My Day

Alex pulled on her jacket as she walked through the now empty restaurant, sighing heavily and pausing briefly by the entrance podium where the pay slips were kept. Rifling through quickly and spotting her name printed on the top left hand side of the envelope, she shoved it in her bag and pushed open the glass door without a word of goodbye to anyone. It had been a busy night, and glancing at her watch, she saw it was a late one too – just coming up to midnight. It was the kind of night in a restaurant where everyone had fiddled around with the menu, deciding that they didn't want this with that, but they'd have extra of those instead. And to top it all off, they'd had a birthday party in – all ten year olds, all precocious, all high on sugar. Alex liked kids, but sometimes even her patience could be tested.

"Hey girl," said someone behind her. She was resting her back against the railings of leading up to the ramp which lead to the entrance, and so craned her head only slightly to see Frankie leaning across them and looking down at her with a grin. "Where'd you run off to? Moira wanted to say thanks for cleaning up that coffee machine problem."

Alex waved a hand dismissively. "I just needed to get some air. It's not a problem."

The girl shrugged and clambered over the railings to land beside her on the concrete. "Tough night huh? I'm wiped."

"Yup," Alex said bluntly, in the vain hope her curtness might deter the other girl from proceeding further. She liked Frankie, she liked most of the people she worked with but they never seemed to understand the phrase 'I want to be left alone' which, after a hard shift, she often did. Sure, being with people and having a laugh made the work go faster, but she was tired, and that made conversation was difficult. Besides, she had to concentrate on making coherent conversation with Blake at this time of night and that was hard enough work as it was these days, with all her stammering and blushing.

She still couldn't believe that he'd offered to come get her and take her home. Not that she considered such an act of kindness out of reach for Blake, but simply for the fact that it wasn't just for her – it was for her Dad too. Her father, who Blake had known less than a month - and he had offered to do something that would bring a little happiness to her dad's life. When William had offhandedly mentioned that he'd have to give up some Sox tickets because they fell on a Saturday night that Alex needed the truck, Blake had insisted that the man go, leaving him to chauffeur Alex. Her Dad needed time for himself too, Blake had argued, when they _both_ told him it was fine. He actually wouldn't take no for an answer, she remembered with a smile. She wondered how William was doing; she'd heard that the Red Sox had won their post season friendly game, but the drive home was long, and she didn't know if the euphoria would get him home safely.

"You waiting for your Dad?" Frankie asked, now texting on her cell phone. Alex shook her head, brushing some hair that the wind had teased out of her ponytail, out of her face. There was little sense in lying – she would see when Blake pulled up that it wasn't William. Alex was dreading it truth be told; since Blake had eaten at Gutsy Pete's, she'd endured weeks of teasing from the girls, who had in turn told everyone else about 'Alex's Super Cute Dance Partner'. Something that felt a lot like jealousy began to surface as they went on about his looks and tried to convince Alex to make him come back.

"Er...no, I've got a different ride," she said carefully. Frankie popped some gum she was chewing and eyed her suspiciously.

"Oh yeah, who's that then?" she asked, pocketing her phone.

"This is where you guys went," Kelly interrupted, joining them out front. "You missed Antonio losing it with whoever put his grill pan back in the wrong place earlier. I don't think I've seen anyone turn so red so quickly." She paused seeing Alex's weary face. "Was tonight a bit too much?"

"I coped just fine," Alex said indignantly. "I'm just beat."

"Yeah, Al's the best waitress we have. Tonight would have been no sweat," said a male voice, ruffling her hair as he went past. Alex shook her head angrily and brushed her hair back into place, crossing her arms in fury when she'd done.

"Don't call me Al," she said in a low voice not bothering to look at the tall boy standing to her left.

Cooper Robertson was one of the very few male waiters they employed at Gutsy Pete's and the only member of staff she did not get along with. He'd grown taller over the holidays – he'd left for Utah for a couple of months over the summer, giving her some relief - and returned as brutish and cocksure as ever, now standing at about six feet and looking down his nose at Alex. He was good looking; all the girls at the restaurant whispered behind his back about how attractive he was, but he was hardly the sort of person who dated. He was more the sort of person who had their way with whoever they could con into believing they were a nice person, and then ditched them. Or at least, that was what Alex had observed. His latest target was Frankie, and she was naive enough to believe it was genuine.

"Oh hey Coop," she smiled, looking past Alex to look into his thin face.

"Hey Frankie," he said smoothly with a crooked grin. "You were on fire tonight with that birthday party."

The girl smiled to herself. "It was nothing – Alex did most of it."

Cooper grinned widely. "See what I mean? You're just the best," he laughed in a cutesy tone.

Alex simpered at him, before returning her gaze to the road, willing Blake to hurry up. She was wise to his game long before he had ever spoken to her, and so instead of trying to bed her, he'd made it his mission to make life as hellish as possible for her. And thus far, he'd done well. He called her names, humiliated her where he could, even playing subtle tricks on her at work to make it look as if she wasn't doing her job properly. On the surface, to other people, it seemed as if it were just simple teasing,

"You're not talking to me?" he said, putting on a voice of mock hurt.

"I have a couple of words I'd like to say," she muttered.

"Ouch. That's cruel."

"You two," Kelly said, scolding them. "Stop bickering. Can't you just get along?" she asked, looking pointedly at Alex who shook her head disbelievingly. Typical. Cooper always came out whiter than white as far as everyone else was concerned.

"It's ok," Cooper said to Kelly in the soft voice he often used. "It's been a long, hard night. Let's just cut Alex some slack, hey?" He flashed her a patronising smile.

Alex groaned loudly. "Cooper, just shut up. Its past midnight, and your irritating little voice makes me want to strangle you with your own tie. So just can it, ok?"

"Testy," Cooper said in low voice, next to her ear making her stomach turn. She batted him away, making him stagger a little. "Jeez Alex," he laughed. "You need to keep a lid on that temper."

The lights of a car pulled into the parking lot and slowed as it reached the outside where they all stood. _Thank God_, Alex thought stepping forward to the car, marvelling at how odd it was that she was relieved when Blake Collins showed up. She'd never been so pleased to see the pokey old Mustang. And there he was, stepping out of the car and leaning on the roof casually, looking a little sleepy.

"Sorry if I'm a little late," he said quietly. Alex shook her head, shoving her bag in the back of the car.

"No worries," she said all too quickly. "Can we just go?" she asked, more quietly and through her teeth. He nodded.

"Hey wait up!" Kelly called out, waving a cigarette in her hand, unlit. "I know you – you came in the restaurant a few weeks back didn't you?"

Blake paused, unsure for a second, noticing how he was under scrutiny from each of them.

"I remember you," Frankie smiled, and Alex didn't miss her meaning as she played with her ponytail.

"Yes," he answered with a polite smile. "Nice to see you all again."

"Come on Blake," Alex said urgently trying to climb in. He went to get in himself, seeing that she was eager to go, but Cooper jogged up to the car, laughing.

"Hang on a second – this is Blake?" he directed at Alex, who was half in the Mustang and half out. She sighed and got out, looking to Blake to answer, and to wrap it up quickly. He frowned; as if it was his fault. Blake nodded at Cooper, who let out a low whistle and grinned. "I've heard so much about you from the girls and Alex," he said cheerily as Blake walked around the front to where Alex stood.

"Are you friends?" Blake asked them both, looking from one to the other.

"No we..."

"Oh, we go way back," Cooper said over Alex. "So you two are dating now?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Oh, no, we're not a couple," Blake said with a weak smile.

"Ok, sure you're not," Cooper said with a wink, looking to Alex with his brown eyes. Blake stared at him, already irritated by Cooper; the boy was taller than him but not as well built, with a similar shade and length of hair, and a very angular sort of face. It gave him a piercing good looking quality and judging from the way that he stood and by his expression, he certainly knew it. He met Cooper's eyes with his own steely stare.

"So, you're a dancer then? Like Alex?" Cooper asked with a raised eyebrow.

"That's right," Blake said with a firm tone, folding his arms.

"Wow – hard work?"

"Yes," said Blake curtly.

"I don't know, always seemed a bit girly to me," Cooper sniffed.

Blake clenched his jaw. "We should be going. It was nice meeting you..."

"Cooper Robertson," the boy said with a smirk, shaking Blake's hand. "I work with Alex."

"Right."

"We're a bit of a close knit family at Gutsy Pete's so...take care of my girl Al won't you?" Cooper asked Blake in a low voice, feigning concern, and touching Alex's shoulder lightly. She shrugged him off immediately.

"I'm not your girl," Alex said, snarling a little. "And don't call me Al."

Blake eyed them both with a frown; Alex's demeanour had put him on edge. She wasn't usually this touchy – at least, not with anyone but him – and she'd been uncharacteristically quiet and fidgety around this Cooper. He'd so long lived with this idea of Alex being indomitable, when finally confronted with the reality - that she was vulnerable like everyone else - it hit him sharply. And he didn't much like the idea of someone making her feel bad about herself.

"Well it's not often we're graced with such celebrity," Cooper was saying, casting a look over at the girls behind him. "I mean, you're Blake Collins. Your Mommy and Daddy started that school right? Maryland School for the Arts."

"That's true yes," replied Blake, walking to the driver's side, and gesturing for Alex to get in too. She smiled gratefully, but didn't make it as Cooper started forward.

"Being son of the founders has gotta have its perks," he called out.

"I work hard for my place at MSA," Blake retorted in a quiet voice, leaning on the top of the car. "I auditioned like everyone else."

"Yeah but when the panel's made up of people who know you, they're gonna turn blind eye if you do something wrong undoubtedly," Cooper shrugged. "Not saying you did, but I guess it's nice to know that you've got a secure place."

"There's nothing _secure_ about my place," Blake said, wondering why he was still talking to him. "And I don't experience any _perks_."

"Oh come on! The best schools are open to you, the best teachers...the best partners," he added, letting his eyes skim over Alex, who glared at him in return.

Blake paused, bristling with anger and shut his door, walking all the way around back to Cooper. At the mention of Alex, that had done it. He'd snapped. He might have been taller but Blake did a good job of squaring up to Cooper with an icy expression.

"Why I'm wasting my time justifying my education to you is beyond me," Blake said in a low, threatening voice, aware that everyone was looking at him, including Alex. "But all the same – I worked damn hard to deserve a place at MSA. Any position I get in a company will be because I have earned it, ok?"

"Hey, look," Cooper laughed, a little nervously. "I was just mucking around."

"Really? Well, I don't appreciate someone I don't know making comments about my life, or passing judgement, jokes or otherwise. Especially when that person doesn't know the first thing about dance. As for Alex," he said calmly. "Back off and find someone else you can pick on to make you feel better about yourself."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do. And I promise you, that if you don't leave her alone – and that means picking on her, calling her Al, or doing anything besides being an exemplary fellow employee – I _will _use my perks as a Collins, and get some guys from school to come and show you how 'girly' male ballerina's really are. Bearing in mind that they spend most of their time lifting other people and not breaking a sweat over it." He leaned in a little closer to Cooper who looked as if he was chewing a wasp. "Understand?"

The parking lot rang out with silence after Blake's speech with Cooper glowering at him, and none of the girls feeling brave enough to say anything. Finally, Cooper nodded, defeated, and folded his arms. Alex stared at Blake with a new appreciation; he'd realised what a jackass Cooper was and how he treated her, and he'd done something about it. She would have blushed, had she not been so shocked - Blake Collins had actually _threatened _someone for her.

"Good. Like I said," Blake smiled at the girls as they stared at him. "It's nice to see you all again." And with that he walked back around to the driver's side of the Mustang and climbed in. Alex followed swiftly, ignoring the wink from Kelly as she did so, and slammed the door behind her.

"Blake Collins," she breathed as he started the engine and drove away, gripping the wheel intently. "I am at a loss for words."

"Well, at least something good came out of all this," he replied wryly.

"What was _that_?" she laughed. "You slaughtered him. You _threatened _him. It was so..." _Attractive_, she wanted to say, but it didn't make it past her lips. "Unlike you." That seemed safer.

Blake stiffened, wondering what he could tell her that wasn't the truth – that he hated the idea of anyone making her feel small, and he couldn't stand the way the Cooper kid looked at her. "I resent people making slanderous accusations about my education," he said curtly. Alex smiled, knowing that there was more significance in what he hadn't said.

"Thank you," she muttered softly. "Cooper's a first class jerk, and he needed bringing down a peg or two. Maybe working with him will be a little more bearable now I don't have to try and ignore his ego," she said, staring out of the window.

"You're not mad at me?" Blake asked, glancing at her sideways. She turned her head to him sharply.

"Why would I be?"

"You told me once to let you handle your own battles," he smirked, a little weakly. "I saw red, but you probably didn't appreciate the whole chauvinistic protector routine."

Alex paused pensively. "I did say that didn't I? Well, this is one battle I'm glad you stuck your oar into."

He laughed quietly to himself, thankful his display of temper wasn't going to cause a rift between them. "I cannot believe you have to work with that guy," he breathed after a while.

"Yeah, tell me about it," she snorted. "You only had the pleasure of five minutes. I've had a few years of the guy."

"Why has he singled you out?" asked Blake, concentrating on the road. Alex just shrugged.

"We don't get along."

"Like _we_ don't get along?" he asked with a smirk, though his knee jerk reaction was to panic. He'd fooled himself into thinking their relationship was somewhat unique and now he was starting to wonder if Alex shared the same sort of thing with Cooper too.

She matched it. "No, I like you despite our fights. Cooper I loathe."

Blake inhaled deeply, feeling a little relieved and indicated left. "Well, that's comforting. But I doubt you'd let me get away with treating you as he did, and I'm sure he's far worse than that brief few seconds I was privileged to witness. Come on Alex," he said glancing at her. "You don't take trash from anyone – why him?"

She laughed to herself. "I don't – I give as good as I get. But there's no relief with Cooper. You see, he's a player, and I seem to be the only person, the only _girl_, that can see him for what he is. He doesn't like that, so goes out of his way to make my life miserable."

"How so?"

"Oh, just stupid things like calling me names, and winding me up. He moves things when I've put them down," she sighed. "Stupid, childish things. He acts like I'm put out because he hasn't tried anything with me. It works because all the girls were convinced I had some kind of thing for him," she said rolling her eyes. Blake paused.

"And do you?" he asked carefully, shifting in his seat.

"No! Please," she laughed, though she'd screwed her face up into one of utter horror. "I guess he's attractive but you know, there are only so many things good looks will let you get away with, and being a complete douche bag isn't one of them."

Blake gave her a crooked smile. "They _were_ convinced?" he said.

Alex sniffed. "Yeah, now they just tease me about you, and ask me when you're coming back. You have quite the fan base at Gutsy Pete's," she admitted. He didn't say anything, but his heart had quickened in tempo and he flexed his hands on the steering wheel, where they were growing sweaty. He needed to get a better command on his emotions – they were running away with him. He cleared his throat.

"Well, I hope he took me seriously," Blake sighed. "I was bluffing a little with the threat."

"Cooper's not very bright."

"So I don't have to pay some guys from school to set him straight?"

"We'll see how it goes," Alex smiled. "But I doubt I'll have any trouble from him. He may not be very bright, but he's all about self-preservation. Just the girls to worry about now." She clasped her hands together and put on a sweet voice. "_Oh Blake, he's so _hot_ Alex! Can we come to the school? I bet he's even hotter when he dances!" _she teased. He threw a glare in her direction.

"Shut up."

"Sorry," she laughed. "But if I have to put up with it, you do. We're partners, remember?"

He pulled a face at her. "They wouldn't _really _come to the school would they?"

"You underestimate the power of teenage hormones, and how desperate some of them really are."

"How comforting," Blake replied dryly, pulling up outside Alex's house. The ride home had been too short, but it had certainly been worth sitting up and waiting just for those snatched moments with her. How ridiculous that was in itself; he would see her Monday.

Alex didn't get out right away. Instead, she turned in her seat to look at him. "Enough about Gutsy Pete's. I want to hear about your day."

He groaned. "It was long – a massive shipment of new Adidas trainers came in and I was buried in stock. Chloe went home sick too." He'd struck up an unlikely friendship with Alex's friend, seeing as they had something in common, and truth be told she wasn't all that bad a person. A little chirpy at times and always humming, but they weren't necessarily _bad_ traits. "She mentioned something about you meeting the old team for a baseball game," he teased gently. She simpered at him.

"No she did not, but points for trying. What is your fascination with me and baseball?" she asked with a confused smile.

What was his fascination with her full stop? "It's just hard to see you doing something other than dance."

"Why?"

"Because you're so good at it."

Alex laughed, crossing her arms. "So I can't be good at anything else?"

Blake opened his mouth and stammered. "Well, that's not what I...certainly not _as _good."

"Well, then you should have seen me play – because they were in talks for drafting me for the Red Sox."

Blake shook his head. "Right."

"I'll take you to a batting pen and show you some time," she insisted.

"If I need a demonstration on how well you can hit things, I can stay in the studio."

Alex narrowed her eyes threateningly, looking as if she might give him a demonstration right then and there but instead she laid her head on the head rest of her seat, looking at him intently. "Did you never want to be anything else?" she asked, with a pensive expression. Blake frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

"Dancing. If you weren't a dancer, what would you do?"

Blake opened his mouth again to reply but faltered. It was something that had never been an issue; he was a Collins and they danced. It was as simple as that, and had been written long before he was even a cluster of cells. To turn to _his_ parents and say he wanted to pursue something else would be nothing short of suicide or involuntary emancipation. They'd disown him surely – he had started dancing because that was what was expected of him. It had merely been good chance he enjoyed it as much as he did.

"I...don't know. I've never thought about it," he said quietly, seemingly a little shocked. Alex lifted her head with a look of concern.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I just...I never considered anything else."

"But what if..." she bit her lip, wondering if she should continue. He looked at her with a stern expression she noticed he often gave people when he wanted them to do as he commanded. She swallowed her concern and smiled. "God forbid, but what if you couldn't dance – if you broke your legs, or had a terrible accident."

Blake paused, feeling sick. She'd touched upon something a little raw and instead of enjoying sitting in her presence, he felt vulnerable and panicky. "I don't know, maybe I'd teach dance," he tried to joke but his voice was too shaky to sound convincing. They sat in silence for a second before Alex touched his arm.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," she said quietly.

"You haven't. You just asked a question," he said, snapping a little. He took a deep breath. "You should go to bed, it's late and if you Dad drives up and finds us still in the car, he'll murder me for not getting you home as quickly as I could have."

Alex blinked and sighed, knowing she wasn't going to get much more out of him. She'd quite literally watched the moment where he shut down and cut her out. Pulling her bag out of the back and climbing out, she muttered her goodbyes, wincing a little as she walked back to the house and Blake's tyres screeched as he drove away.


	17. A Boy's Best Friend Is His Mother

_A/N: Hey y'all! Another movie quote for the title – I was stuck so picked this one, uttered by Norman Bates in Psycho. He's the killer, but I'm not saying Blake will be! I just thought it was ironic. Maybe it's just creepy. I was stuck!_

Chapter 17 – A Boy's Best Friend Is His Mother

"Hey!" Alex said cheerfully, as she pushed open the door to the studio with rosy cheeks. Blake glanced up from where he was tugging off a sweater, and noted how pretty Alex looked; her hair was up in a bun, but the loose strands that usually worked their way out of the fixings she placed them in had curled slightly and her eyes were bright and happy. She hummed as she began to change, a tune that Blake recognised but couldn't place.

"You're chirpy," he commented.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked. "The sun's shining, my Dad fixed my truck yesterday, and I got an A in my English midterm..." She sighed contentedly, missing off the part about her having rehearsal with him. "Life's pretty peachy today."

"Your Dad fixed your truck? I thought you said there was no hope for it," Blake said.

"Yeah, well, my dad's pretty awesome," she smiled, unpacking her things. "How was the rest of your weekend after you picked me up?"

He smirked and sat down while he waited for her. "Not as exciting I'm afraid. Had work, did some school work, and then Mom and Dad forced me and Chase into penguin suits on Sunday for some cocktail party. Not to mention Mom found out about the whole fun fair thing when they went away."

Alex kept her comments about Blake's parents to herself and just gave him a smile to show she was listening. From their brief encounter, Alex had no problem with Clive or Frances, but she struggled sometimes to keep her remarks about them in check. She couldn't help but compare their parents; it was funny how William did nothing but encourage her to go out and have a life, and Blake's parents seemed intent on nipping desire that in the bud. She privately thought they were unnecessarily strict on Blake and Chase. After all, her Dad didn't know a thing about ballet and had never tried to, and she'd turned out alright without being forced into a childhood that didn't include...well, _fun_.

She knew she'd touched a nerve the night, when she'd brought up his decision to dance. Her sleep had been completely ruined that night, despite her exhaustion, as Alex worried that she'd pushed him to far, _wishing _that she'd just kept her mouth shut. But he seemed in a better frame of mind now; he was smiling, and looked...if she had to admit it to herself...very cute...in his sweat top with his hair tousled and hanging in his eyes slightly.

"Thanks again for taking both me and Chase. I had fun," she said quietly, casting her eyes downwards to refocus. "Despite the drama."

Blake folded his arms and rested his head against the wall, casting his eyes heavenward. "I suppose we'll look back on the Ferris Wheel incident and laugh."

"I will," Alex snorted. "You were hilarious." He shot an inquisitive look her way and waited for an explanation. "Oh come on...'get down from there!'..." she said, mimicking his tone. "He was on the Ferris Wheel, for Pete's sake."

Blake fought the smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yes. Well. I was in a state of panic clearly." When he saw Alex was still laughing, he couldn't help it any longer; he shook his head, chuckling to himself. "Fine. It probably wasn't the _best _thing to come out with."

"No. But at least _Chase_ was thinking clearly. It might have gotten a little serious if your brother did as he was told."

Blake stood up, ignoring her smirk and paced over to the middle of the studio, ready to work. "There's no danger of Chase ever doing that, so long as it's me giving the command. He can be as belligerent as you." She pulled a face, making him laugh.

"And how's _Wish Bear_?" he asked coyly, partly to see her reaction and partly to change the subject. He got the desired effect; her face was devoid of any distinguishable emotion apart from the smile she'd worn since she'd walked in, but she couldn't stop the telltale blush from creeping across her cheeks.

"On my desk," she said simply.

He smiled to himself, stretching his arms patiently. "Come on," he commanded. "We better get on."

"Alright," grumbled Alex, "Give me chance to get ready."

"Look, the Christmas fund raiser is coming up, and we've got to be ready..." he began. Alex rolled her eyes.

"We will be. Jeez," she sighed, running her fingers through her hair before putting it up." Don't you ruin my buzz, Mr. Collins. I'm having a good day, and I am _not _afraid of you," she added firmly, walking over to him.

Blake shrugged. "I know that."

"Good."

"But I _do _know that you're afraid of ghost trains," he retorted, folding his arms smugly. "So if you do anything I don't like, I'll frogmarch you to the fair and force you on to one."

Her jaw dropped but she quickly recovered from her surprise and began to laugh. "I knew it. I knew you'd use it against me. I didn't know when, but I knew you would. Wish I'd never damn well said anything," she muttered.

Blake straightened his back, glancing off past her head in a meditative state. "The best way to defeat someone is to use their strengths and weaknesses against them."

"Who died and made you Sensei?" Alex teased, poking him in the ribs as she walked past him. He jerked sharply, laughing as he did so. "And since when I was I an opponent that needed defeating?"

"If you do as you're told," Blake breathed, cocking his eyebrow. "There will be no need for me to carry out my threat, will there?"

"Do as I'm..." Alex squared up to him with a determined expression; her eyes narrowed and her mouth set firmly in a confident smile. "Listen, mister. Nobody tells me what to do, and as for your _threat_," she said, jabbing him with her finger again, in the sternum this time. "You wouldn't dare."

"Then you clearly don't know what I'm capable of," he said in a low voice, and just for good measure, he gently pushed her shoulder. She shook her head disbelievingly, until someone behind them cleared their throat loudly, startling them so much they turned sharply in their direction.

"Mom," Blake said, frowning, and his tone becoming noticeably clipped and polite. He stepped away from Alex. "What are you doing here?"

Frances Collins was watching them both with a blank expression, holding a pair of leather gloves in her hand and some files in the other. She was dressed in a long winter coat, and underneath, crisp business wear that cut against her neat figure. In her heels, she was taller, but her height had nothing to do with how intimidating she was, simply standing there, commanding a strong presence in the studio. She seemed to take a moment before stepping forward, her heels clacking on the wooden floor and going over to them both.

"I dropped by for a meeting with Director Franklin, and I saw the two of you in the studio as I passed," she said, adopting a smile. Her eyes darted to Alex. "It's nice to see you again, Alex."

"And you Mrs. Collins."

"What are you doing here? Rehearsing?"

"For the fundraiser," Blake explained quickly, swallowing the lump in his throat. He knew his mother well enough to know that behind the formal and seemingly gentile words and demeanour, she was waiting to speak her mind over something. Sure enough, she paused pensively and turned her careful face towards Alex.

"Alex, would you mind terribly if I had a word with my son? In private," she added, smiling broadly.

Alex nodded, and pointed to the door. "I'll be outside." She padded away softly, glancing back at Blake with an inquisitive look before slipping out of the door and into the corridor.

"What's the matter?" he asked, folding his arms.

"What are the two of you up to?"

Blake frowned. "Rehearsing. I just told you."

"It didn't look as if there was a lot of dancing going on," Frances Collins said calmly.

"We hadn't started yet."

"Honey," Frances sighed, dragging the word out and playing with her gloves. "I wouldn't have allowed this partnership to go ahead if I'd have known your focus wasn't..."

"You wouldn't have _allowed_ it?" interrupted Blake, quirking an eyebrow as his voice rose a little in his anger. "It was my decision who I worked with, not yours."

"And do you honestly think I would have let you make a decision that would hinder you in any way?" his mother asked. Blake gritted his teeth and looked away. "Blake, darling, I want what's best for you, and I do like Alex. Truly I do. And I know for a fact she's a well accomplished performer. Franklin himself tells me how promising her future is. He's already started seeling the pair of you to RBS and New York, for when your final showcase comes up. But if working together is pulling you both back, rather than propelling you forward, I'm going to put a stop to it. _For the both of you_," she added in a low voice as her son shook with rage at his mother's words.

"Alex is staying," he told her.

"Ok, if you can prove to me that she's not a distraction," his mother told him in a low voice.

"If anything, Mom," he countered, spitting the words, "Alex keeps me focused. She knows what to expect from me, what works between us, and how to motivate me. She's a fantastic partner and you'd be hard pushed to find a better dancer in this _state_, let alone school."

Frances stared at him thoughtfully. "All the same, I'd like you to be a little stricter with yourself. I know how your feelings can run away with you sometimes, especially in dance. I am human," she added, in an attempt to making him smile. He simply restrained a snort. "What I mean is, try to focus on what's important _now _– anything else can come after. I mean," she continued, laughing a little, "look at how defensive you're being right now. Irrational. I'm only asking you to remember why you partnered with Alex in the first place. To further your dancing, right sweetie?"

Blake begrudgingly nodded.

"Right – I need to go see Director Franklin, and you need to be getting on." She bent her head forward to kiss his cheek, which he allowed her to do reluctantly. Satisfied, she turned on her heels and began to walk away.

"If you want the best for me, and my future, then Alex will continue to be my partner," Blake called out in a resolute tone. His mother spun on her heels, masking her irritation.

"I'm not stupid Blake," she said coolly. "I know when my son is infatuated with someone." Blake opened his mouth to object but she raised a hand. "I have nothing against her personally. All I ask is that you prove to me that you're not throwing your talent away for some teenage crush. This is your life, we're talking about. Dance first, everything else second," she stated. He clenched his fists at his side and rolled his eyes. That was her life's mantra and didn't he know it.

"Your father and I met through dance Blake, I'm not saying it's not _allowed_," she reiterated. "I'm simply saying..."

"I know. Dance first. Anything else second." He paused and refolded his arms. "Fine. You'll get your proof, if that's what you need. Regardless of feelings, Alex and I are a good partnership. You have nothing to worry about anyway. It's completely one-sided." A small lie, he hoped.

She nodded and turned away again. "I'll see you this evening," she said without looking back, passing through the door and leaving him in a furious stupor. How dare she dictate to him about who he should and shouldn't dance with? He scratched his head, pacing when Alex reappeared seconds later, looking a little perturbed, and frowned at Blake.

"Is everything alright? Your Mom gave me the stink eye when she left the room, and I heard shouting," she said, cocking her head to look at him and taking in his stance and expression, blinked at him with concern. "Are you ok?"

"Fine," he snapped, a little coldly. He knew he was taking his anger out on her but it was that or admit the truth, and he didn't really want to relay the awkward and, frankly, embarrassing moments of before. He was ashamed of his parents – he had been for a long time. No doubt when he was at the Royal Ballet School he'd be able to look back and appreciate their hard efforts, but at the moment he couldn't. Why couldn't Frances be a normal Mom and just tease him about having a crush on Alex if she knew? Why did she have to make it into a drama, and bring dance into it?

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he sighed, and when he looked at her, he could see in her eyes she didn't believe him. At least she was good enough not to push the matter, and so with a shrug she paced over to him resignedly. She didn't say anything else about it for the rest of their rehearsal in fact, seemingly sensing his bad mood, she only raised queries about their dancing. He couldn't tell whether he'd hurt her feelings or not, but as they left, she flashed him a kind smile and waved, before heading off to meet her Dad. He knew he'd let his mother's words affect the way he treated her, and he hated himself for it. But there seemed to be little else he could do. He couldn't pursue anything with Alex now – asides from a normal friendship – because he needed to show Frances that he and Alex were dancing dynamite, so she wouldn't part them. He knew she would do that if she 'thought it best'. And there was nothing Frances Collins liked more than being proved right.

It just meant toning it down, at least until he'd made his point; no going over weekly, no unnecessary car rides, no flirting. As much as it was going to pain him to give up the precious time he did spend with the one person he made him feel like a human being, it could mean that they wouldn't split up in the long run. Just a little distance between the pair of them was all they needed. It could be good for them, to really focus, especially with the fundraiser coming. He groaned inwardly as he walked to his car, cursing his internal rationalisations. He was beginning to sound like his mother.

XXXXX


	18. You Want Me To Kiss Her?

_A/N: I'm sensing a theme with the titles now...but hey, sue me. This one comes from the movie 'It's A Wonderful Life' and is said by the fantastic James Stewart. It also features later on in this chapter, and if you remember, Alex said that she and her Dad watch it every year on the anniversary of her mother's death. It's a pretty awesome film but I felt like that particular quote was apt; George is told to kiss Mary by a stranger, which in reality he'd like nothing better than to do it. It's a loose tie, but if you've seen the movie, hopefully you can see the parallels. Especially since I know you're probably thinking 'YES DAMN IT! KISS HER BLAKE!"_

Chapter 18 – You Want Me To Kiss Her?

"Good morning Hale!" Chloe cried across the sportswear store as she spotted Alex stepping of the escalator with some ray bans in her hands and looking around with wonder. Her friend elongated all the vowels in her exclamation, making her sound like a commentator and Chloe bound across the room, greeting her in a violent hug, nearly toppling them both. "Long time no see buddy. What are you doing here?" she asked, oblivious of the attention from the general public she'd garnered at her display.

Alex grinned. "Funny story actually. I'm looking for Blake," she said, looking around. "Is he about?"

Chloe eyed her suspiciously and shrugged. "He's meant to be on checkout duty but I think he traded with Braden and hid himself in stock again. That's where he usually is. You can't go out there – do you want me to get him?" The girl spoke at one hundred miles per hour in the usual cheeriness she always exuded.

Alex nodded. "Would you mind?"

"Sure thing," her friend grinned, revealing her braces. "But you owe me. How about you actually meet up with me and the rest of the gang for a game – it's been a while…"

"My curveball isn't what is used to be."

"No but I bet the amount of time you spend dancing your pirouettes are awesome," Chloe said rolling her eyes. "OK how about…just a game of throw and catch. And maybe some running."

"Round a diamond?" Alex asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, and you could bat the ball when someone throws it at you…"

"You know, kind of like a game of baseball then?" Alex said. Chloe paused and flashed another wicked steely grin.

"Yeah. Kind of. Think about," she added as she backed away. "I'll get Collins. Maybe you can cheer him up," she added in a stage whisper. "I don't think he's feeling very good."

Alex breathed a sigh as she left her and began to pace down the rows of trainers before finally standing at the back of the store where she could see the small dance section Blake had mentioned, and a vast wall with football team jerseys all hanging from wire hangers. Naturally the Baltimore Ravens were displayed foremost above the others, and she didn't think that the orange Orioles baseball jersey would be shoved at the back in this town either. Americans were fiercely patriotic, and supportive of their states' team. She'd gotten a lot of skin when she first told her old team she was a Sox fan.

"So you're a football fan too now?" said a voice behind her. She spun on her heels, recognising who it was and smiled.

"Quite the opposite. Dad likes it though," she said taking in Blake's work uniform – a dark navy polo shirt with a bright logo stating the name of the store.

"You wanted to see me?" he said, crossing his arms.

She paused and blinked before nodding. She had, for no apparent reason. He'd been...avoiding her somewhat over the past week or so, in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on, but she was missing his company acutely. It wasn't as if they _weren't_ together, but he'd not offered her any lifts home besides his usual Wednesday ride, and he'd told her he had to take Chase to school in the mornings as a favour to his Mom. Not to mention he'd seemed less than enthused to watch a game of baseball with her. It was as if, without being unkind, he'd taken a step back and gone cold.

"I was walking past," Alex said sighing. "The TV exploded this morning, for whatever reason. Dad's fit to burst a pipe but he thinks he knows what's wrong."

Blake's eyebrows shot up, and he smirked, not unkindly. "Can your Dad fix it?"

"Of course. He says it's just a matter of punching it in the right way," Alex joked, looking at him as if it were obvious.

"Right," Blake laughed softly. "And what brought you here?" He caught a glimpse of himself in one of the store mirrors; sporting a relaxed mask with a forced smile he looked as much a Collins as he ever did. Avoiding her and putting some distance between them was hard, especially when it was so easy to be natural in her presence, and he didn't like acting indifferent.

"I had to get out," she said with a sad smile. "Back home there was a six foot tall angry man throwing his tools around."

Blake frowned and looked thoughtful. "No, I wouldn't like the idea of facing William like that either. Egotistical jerks I can handle – I've had a fair amount of practice," he said wryly, remembering Cooper as she grinned. "But not angry men."

"That's ok – I don't much like the idea of going back to face him. I'm out under the pretence of getting some shopping but the refrigerator's full. It'll be a while before he calms down and figures that out." She fiddled with her sunglasses in her hands and sighed. "I just saw the store and thought I'd stop by." Alex cringed at the sound of her own voice; she sounded lame and desperate, for Pete's sake.

Perhaps the reason their relationship felt so strained to her was because she _had_ touched a nerve that was a little too close to the real Blake, and he hadn't liked it much. Which would account for the pushing away. But how could she confront him on it, when really he was doing nothing wrong? He'd been kind enough since, joking as he had done then, but there was something a bit formal about their interactions. Professional, almost. And after finding herself looking forward to his company, it was a surprising step back she wasn't comfortable with.

"Anyway, I'll let you get back to work," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose and still looking down, wondering why she'd come at all.

"It's ok," he said. "It was good to see you." And it was, even if it brought problems with it. He knew he'd spend the rest of the day in the stock room thinking about her. But then again, he'd been doing that already.

"See you Monday."

Blake nodded and said goodbye as she grazed past him, closing his eyes as she walked away. He was angry with himself, for doing just as his mother had wanted, but it hadn't been easy. He'd had an idea while she'd been talking about her father and shopping, but it had got caught in his throat. He was tired of denying himself things that he wanted because of his parent's say so. And he _wanted_ to spend time with Alex. As a friend. That wouldn't hurt his point surely? Especially seeing as his Mom and Dad would be at a function tonight. They need never know. He despaired at himself sometimes – he verbally attacked a guy he'd know a few minutes in front of people he didn't know in her defence, and yet when push came to shove he was timid as a mouse. He was supposed to be _Blake Collins_. Collins' didn't back down from a challenge or a fight. When did he become such a coward? Blake took a deep breath. _Come on_, he willed himself. _Ask her._

"Alex!" he called out, seizing the moment and turning on his heels. She turned to look at him with a confused frown, waiting patiently as he sprinted over. He laid a hand on a shoe display and picked at the laces. "I just thought...my parents are away at some kind of function today..."

"I know, you said on Wednesday," she interrupted, folding her arms and staring at him intently.

"Yes," he said slowly, a little dejected she'd cut him off mid sentence, and disrupting his flow. "Well. I just thought – if you really needed to get out of the house for a few hours, I get off at two. You could hang out at mine, watch some baseball. With me," he added with a hopeful smile, that she didn't quite pick up.

"What about Chase?"

"He's at a friend's and he's sleeping over. So there's no one to fight for the television."

Alex looked pensive for a moment, and he found it difficult to read her expression. Sometimes it was as plain as day, and other times he found she had developed a skill for disguising it under a blank, nonchalant face.

"Our house is a bit of a tense environment," she admitted.

"I'll cut some carrot sticks," he said with a serious expression, repeating her father's words. She rolled her eyes.

"Fine. I'll drive over to yours later," she smiled, stepping on to the escalator and looking back as she descended. "See you at three then."

_See you at three_, Blake breathed to himself, having finally let go of the breath he'd been holding in as he waited for her answer. What was he doing? Playing with fire, definitely. If his Mom came back, he'd be practically defeated, and she'd undoubtedly run through her embarrassing speech about how Collins' needed to bypass their feelings to be the best they could. If his Mom knew to the extent to which he'd been spending time with Alex over the past few months...well, it didn't bear well to think about it. But he missed Alex, and he didn't care about admitting that to himself. He turned around and headed straight for the stock room, knowing that his fat boss would no doubt lay into him heavily for slacking off.

"Collins!" cried Chloe from underneath a pile of unmarked sweatbands that she was pricing, and making him jump. She lifted herself up and staggered to her feet, ignoring his look of alarm and squaring up to him. "You and Alex are good friends now, yeah?"

"I suppose so," he replied, unsure at what she was getting at. She hunched her shoulders and looked at little sheepish.

"Look I know dance is important to the both of you. But I was wondering if you could do me a favour. Well, can you convince her to play a game with me and her old Little Leaguers? I bet she'd listen to you," she said nudging him, and biting her lip. He raised an eyebrow, and started to walk away with Chloe following him.

"You're kidding right? If I said jump, Alex would just punch me in the face." Chloe looked crestfallen so he sighed and gave her a friendly smile. "I'll try, but you should know that I'm the last person Alex would listen to," he smirked, and he pushed open the staff only door to get back to work.

XXXXX

Alex tugged off her sneakers and put them neatly by the door, remembering this wasn't her own home. The Collins home seemed even lighter in the afternoon sunshine, but the days were getting shorter and colder and the crisp light wasn't going to last much more than a couple of hours. She'd donned a sweater – one of her favourites – and then realised as she drove to his house that perhaps she might've made an effort. She'd dismissed it, but it still lingered in the back of her mind and as she'd pulled up outside of his house – right behind the Mustang – she paused to tweak her hair in the mirror.

"This is ridiculous," she had muttered to herself as she pulled her hair out of its hair band and letting it fall about her shoulders. "You're just watching baseball with a friend."

But it didn't just feel like baseball with a friend – it felt like something entirely indistinguishable. He was treating her differently, despite his nice smiles, and having just gotten used to 'moody and snappy' Blake, and then acclimatising to 'sensitive, thoughtful' Blake, 'false and distant' Blake was a little too much. Perhaps she should have stayed home.

On the other hand, she mused as she sat on his couch – he was getting drinks – he might pull his head out of the clouds and start acting normally. She missed _that _Blake.

"Here we go," he said, coming in from the kitchen with two orange juices. "We're so rock and roll."

She laughed, sitting cross legged on the couch. "To think, other kids our age are doing meth and snorting Twizzlers."

Blake smirked and grabbed the remote, switching it on to the right channel and turning it up a little. It wasn't a League game, just a friendly, but he found that he was enjoying it more and more each time he watched it. And of course, it gave him something in common with Alex.

"After you left today," Blake started with his eyes on the screen, trying not to think about how close she was to him, "Chloe asked me if I'd convince you to play baseball again."

Alex's eyebrows shot up with a sceptical smirk. "Did she now?"

"I mean it this time," he laughed softly, remembering his joke the other night. "Genuinely. She said...get this...that you would _listen to me_."

"Ha!"

"That's what I said." He paused, frowning a little and folding his arms. "Why don't you?"

She shrugged and took a sip of her drink. "It's just not part of my life any more. I love the game, I'm not bad at it, but I came to a crossroads and I picked dance. That's my commitment now." Alex cleared her throat and watched as the runner was ousted at first base. "Chloe is a great girl; she just doesn't understand that my heart isn't in it anymore. Not in that way anyway."

Blake nodded beside her, understanding completely. Had he of had the choice, he knew dance would have been it. It was where his heart was almost certainly. But unlike Alex, he hadn't had to make that choice; it had been ballet from the moment he took his first step. He liked that in a way – it was uncomplicated, and he had no ties to anything else in the ways she did. And yet he'd still had to make some sacrifices along the way.

XXXXX

"I'm sorry to say this," Blake called through from the kitchen as he got them another drink. "But this game isn't very exciting."

Alex smiled to herself as she scanned the Collins' VCR collection. "Sometimes friendly's can be just that – a little too amiable."

Blake reappeared in the doorway and set down their glasses. When he spotted her, he frowned and joined her. "What are you up to?"

"I was just thinking, we could watch a film instead," she mused softly, tapping her finger on each title before pausing pensively. "If you want," she added, a little uncertainly.

"Yes," Blake replied, eyeing the time and noting that his parent's wouldn't be home for hours yet. "I mean...yes, we could. I mean, I think it's pretty obvious where the game's heading." Thank goodness they hadn't laid any actual bet on it, because the team he'd been quietly rooting for were being beaten into the dust. "Which one?"

She paused and made a thoughtful noise as she pulled a few out and looked at them. "I don't mind." Alex seemed to smile to herself. "These are all alphabetised," she smirked, looking at Blake. "How long did this take?"

"This is an ongoing task," he deadpanned. "Chase likes to rearrange them to annoy me."

She laughed again, making him smile. "Oh, _It's A Wonderful Life_," murmured Alex. "That's a great film."

"I've never seen it," admitted Blake, moving to the coffee table to drink some of his orange juice. When he looked around, Alex was staring at him strangely.

"You've _never_ seen this movie?"

"No."

She blinked. "It's a classic."

He sat down on the couch. "I don't have much time for classics. I doubt anyone else in this house has watched it either. You can put it on," urged Blake. "If you want."

"It was my Mom's favourite," she said quietly, sliding it into the VCR player and going to sit beside him. Her expression had grown a little wistful and he watched her carefully as he spoke. "She used to make us watch it every year on her birthday and Christmas. It's the film me and Dad watch on the anniversary of her death," she added, knowing that he knew about the film thing. It was a relief to not have to explain it all.

"We don't have to watch it then," he said very quickly.

"Thank you," Alex smiled, nudging him, testing the waters a little. "But you should watch it. Besides, I want to. It's a good film. Mom loved James Stewart. He's great in this."

Blake picked up the remote and pressed play; the opening title of a black and white film appeared, with the sound of bells cracking over the speakers. He rose to turn down the lights again, and when returned to his seat, he found Alex had nestled down to get comfortable but had taken care to make sure she wouldn't be touching him.

She was right – it was a good film, and he immediately began to feel sorry for George and all his dashed hopes and dreams. He must have grown pretty quiet because Alex nudged him and asked if he was alright.

"I'm fine," he replied lamely.

"You looked really thoughtful. You were frowning at James Stewart really hard."

"I just...feel sorry for him. Why doesn't he just leave and do what he wants?" Blake asked. Alex smiled.

"Because he's too good a person, Blake."

Blake shook his head. "I wouldn't stay, and give up my dreams."

"Not even for Chase?" argued Alex. He paused and looked at her, unable to answer.

"Well, that's different I suppose..."

"How?"

"Because Chase would understand. As a Collins, he'd understand."

Alex laughed to herself, but didn't say anything more, turning her attention back to the screen. After a while, she nudged him again. "This is a good bit. You'll hate it though."

Blake didn't ask why – he just watched. George was angry; he'd gone to visit the girl...what was her name? _Mary_, that was it. They were both talking to their mutual friend on the telephone, their heads bent together with the receiver by their mouths and the earpiece shared between them. They were close, and the tension on the screen was electric and they looked at each other.

"_He says it's the chance of a lifetime..."_

"_Now you listen to me! I don't want any plastics and I don't want any ground floors and I don't want to get married, to anyone, not ever, you understand that? I want to do what I wanna do! And you're...and you're..."_

"This is the strangest reconciliation I've ever seen," Blake admitted, as George kissed Mary. Strange it may have been, but it didn't leave him unaffected; he was clenching his fists where he had them folded across his chest, and gritting his teeth so hard with the tension he thought his jaw might crack. He'd held his breath too.

"I thought that too when I first watched it," Alex sighed, with a dreamy look. "But he's angry at himself for falling in love with her. He thinks she'll hold him back. It was never going to be a sweet, romantic scene."

He stole a glance at her – is that how they'd eventually turn out? With all the emotions behind them, would the conclusion to all _their _tension be a strange angry confrontation? He hoped not, but at the same time, he didn't see how else it could be. Not unless he could clear away everything else so it was just Alex and him. Nothing else. No dance, no William, no Frances...

The thought of his mother reminded him exactly why he _couldn't_. But as the girl sat next to him, smiling at the screen fondly, that was becoming increasingly difficult.


	19. There's No Crying In Baseball

_A/N: So, first I'm gonna apologise for the incredibly long wait. Alas, life, that eternal obstacle._

_Secondly, I have to apologise again because I wrote that they were playing 'Cheat' in this chapter and then realised that you can't play that with two people. I probably should have changed it but this chapter was such a long slog, I simply patched over it. Tom Hanks fans will know the title is a quote said by him in the movie "A League of Their Own". It's kind of apt, because this chapter features baseball and a bit of angst and sadness. You were warned._

Chapter 19 – There's No Crying In Baseball

Blake was the first to stir. Blinking and groggily waking, rubbing his eyes a little as he did so, he realised he had drifted off. He turned his head a little to look at the clock on the mantelpiece. _Seven. _The film had long since finished, and Alex – who was asleep beside him – was resting on his shoulder, breathing softly. Blake's breath caught in his throat with surprise. Gingerly laying his head back so not to wake her, he felt his heart quicken once more and he wondered what he could do to calm it down.

Alexandra Hale was asleep on his shoulder. It was just about the best damn thing that had ever happened to him.

He managed to control his breathing and even relax into the sofa a little, savouring the feeling of their bodies being close. She was nestled into him, breathing deep breaths in a dreamless sleep. They had clearly both been exhausted – he could barely remember the rest of the film, though the memory of them both falling into a comfortable silence did come to mind, but with hindsight, that comfortableness was clearly drowsiness. Blake smiled and laid a hand down beside him, not seeing the remote and accidently pressing down on it before he realised what he was doing. The channel switched to one with a loud commercial and Alex, who had been quite still, shot up in a shocked state.

It took her a few moments to grasp where she was and what exactly she'd been doing. Blake rubbed his eyes again, conscious of what it might look like – him just letting her sleep on him was a little creepy for _just friends_. "Oh gosh," she groaned in a half whisper, putting her hands over her eyes as she looked at him. "I'm so sorry. I don't make a habit of falling asleep at people's houses." She peeked through her fingers to see if he was actually awake and was met with a smirk.

"It's ok – I fell asleep too," he reassured her. Blake paused, sitting forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "We were obviously tired."

She ran her fingers through her hair before tucking it behind her ears, nodding in agreement. Her eyes were a little bleary, she still wasn't awake properly yet, and a little yawn proved that but sleepy Alex was the cutest sight he'd ever seen. Alex stretched her arms upward and groaned a little as she tensed her lazy muscles.

"Clearly," she muttered with a smile. "I'm starving." She seemed to say it almost absentmindedly to herself, as if she'd forgotten he was there.

"Well, do you want something to eat?" Blake asked. She should probably head home, but he felt almost cheated out of time with her so he hoped she would stay. Luckily for him, her hunger overrode any feelings of wanting to go home.

"That would be great," she smiled, with a crooked smile and her hair in tangled curls. He faltered, mouth slightly agape, aware he was staring.

"Right. Well," he said rising, clearing his throat and looking around the room to find something to distract himself with. "I hope you like Italian food."

"Of course," she said. "I'm a Hale. We like all food."

He made a simple pasta dish with a sweet tomato sauce and steamed vegetables to go on the side while she watched him in the kitchen. He felt a little self conscious with somebody's eyes on him when he wasn't on a stage, but when she struck up an easy conversation, he felt his insecurities ebb away and he almost forgot an ingredient or two because he was laughing.

Alex asked politely where the plates, cutlery and glasses were, and he directed her as he stirred the sauce. She set it all at the dining table; he suspected that she couldn't just sit there and rest; it would feel too much like uselessness to her, and so he let her get on with it. Alex murmured her appreciation as they ate – raving about his talents as a cook, once again suggesting she didn't have him 'down as a chef' though he knew she was simply being kind. But her plate was cleared long before his, and so he could only conclude she was very, very hungry, or she might have actually enjoyed it. He quite liked that her assumptions of him kept falling flat, just as his of her did too. He wondered what he would be left with when he dismissed all of what he'd 'had her down as'.

He insisted on clearing up, though it was simply a case of putting everything in a dishwasher, and when he returned her found her waving a pack of cards at him.

"I'm not really a card man," he insisted, smiling at his own joke, but she gave him a disarming look, which made him sit down opposite her and wait to be dealt his hand. They started with a game he knew as 'Cheat', though she called it something entirely different – and found she was just as good at concealing and bluffing as he had thought. Blake glanced up at her over the top of his cards. But not on this occasion.

"Pick them up," he said smirking.

She pulled a face and picked up the cards – she'd claimed she was laying down a two, when he had all four in his hand. "Damn it," she muttered. "I wouldn't have taught you if I knew you were going to beat me at my own game."

"That's true. Two Ace's."

"I thought you weren't _a card man_," she mimicked, looking at her cards and finally laying one down. "One King."

"I'm not usually – I guess it depends on who you're playing with."

"Ah! Because I'm giving you a run for your money?"

"Oh, I thought I was letting you win."

The girl snorted, rearranging her cards. "This game is a little difficult with two people – do you want to play Spit?"

Blake must have frowned because she laughed, her hair tumbling forward. "It doesn't involve actual saliva Blake."

"How reassuring," he deadpanned. "You'll have to teach me."

She went through it slowly with him, explaining each of the rules carefully until she was sure she got it. It was a mixture of Snap, Solitaire, and Whist, and when she asked if he was ready, he wasn't sure he was. But he nodded anyway, and they started. He was terrible at it, as he suspected, and despite her insisting she would go easy on him, it seemed she quite enjoyed wiping the floor with him. When he brought it up, she shrugged.

"Competitive. Always have been," she told him with a wry smile. "Doesn't matter whether its cards, or dance, or baseball. I like to win. It's the Hale in me."

"I figured as much – your Dad likes to win too."

"The difference is that he likes to win without doing the work himself," she pointed out. "You don't often catch him running around the baseball pitch."

Blake chuckled. "What position did you used to play?"

"Depended entirely on the game – usually right, centre or left field. I'm a good runner, but my pitching always needed work."

"Well, rest assured that your pitching will always be better than mine," Blake said, throwing his cards down in defeat when she beat him again. Alex shrugged.

"You've never played – you could be amazing."

He glanced up at her to see that she was smiling earnestly. "Thanks but I doubt it. I'm not the athletic type."

She paused thoughtfully, and brushed some hair from her eyes. "I'll make a pact with you – I'll set up a game with my Little Leaguers, but you have to come play too."

He pulled a face. "Why do you want me there?"

"I said I'd take you to a batting pen." Alex jostled him slightly by play punching his arm. "Come on. You need to be properly initiated into the sport of Baseball. And it'll get Chloe and the others off my back..."

He rubbed his neck, his heart secretly doing flips inside his chest at the idea she'd even suggested it, and the warm blooded part of him wanted to yell 'yes' without any hesitation. But he'd most likely make an idiot of himself and not just in front of her, but her friends too.

"I don't know..."

"What if I raised the stakes?" she added with an eyebrow wiggle. He paused as he packed the cards away.

"Keep talking."

"We'll go early and practice for a bit, but once the other's arrive, we'll play on separate teams. The winner," Alex grinned, "has to perform a forfeit of the other's choice."

Blake sniffed. "You mean, if I win, I can force you into doing my history of dance homework for a month?"

"Yup."

"But, in reality, the chances of me coming close to victory are slim to none right?"

"Yup." Alex laughed when he rolled his eyes. "I'm only kidding. Besides, I'll put you on a team with some of the better players so it's equal."

Blake thought hard about it and rose to put the cards away. "No," he said firmly. "I don't trust you and whatever forfeit you choose is bound to be...unpleasant. I'll go with you anyway though," he added.

She smiled warmly at him. "You will?"

"If it'll get Chloe of my back," he said wryly. "She's extremely persistent."

Alex left not long after, deciding to brave home, and it was lucky she did because his mother arrived home early half an hour later, complaining of a headache and muttering how tedious one of the men at the function had been. He nodded and smiled, only half listening to her as his mind drifted elsewhere - to Alex and his impending initiation to baseball, and how satisfying it had felt to simply being close to her, especially after abstaining from her company. When Frances asked what he'd been doing while she was gone, he shrugged and muttered something about homework. His mother seemed happy with that answer so carried on talking about the party until Blake excused himself, and went upstairs.

XXXXX

"This seems like a bad idea now," Blake muttered to Alex as a group people approached them. They'd been at the baseball court for a couple of hours, while Alex showed him the basics of the game. It was a lot harder in practice than in theory, but he'd eventually gotten the feel of the bat in his hands. He'd even hit the ball a few times. Some of his early pathetic attempts had Alex in stitches, bent over, but she swiftly toned down her laughter to a gentle smirk when he lifted the bat with a dangerous look in his eyes.

It had been dangerous ground coming at all though; he'd lied to Frances when she asked him where he was going, but she seemed to buy the library story. She'd made a remark as he left about how good it was to see him focused on dance again and a large stone of guilt seemed to drop into his stomach. He didn't want to sneak around and lie to his Mom but what other option was there? She'd already made it clear she didn't approve of him spending 'non-professional' time with Alex. And somehow he didn't think he could get away with the 'it'll help my footwork improve' excuse. He'd set out late morning and parked up at the pitch to find Alex already in the batting pen, cap pulled over her eyes to shield the bright sun, but a jacket covering her shoulders. It was a crisp winter morning, and she mentioned something about the ground being a bit hard but it'd do well enough, just to be careful if he fell. He smiled nervously, only half listening - he knew he was doing a terrible job of staying away from her, but he didn't have the heart to care when he saw her, swinging the bat absentmindedly as she instructed him. When she'd come over and positioned his arms with the bat, just as she might do in the studio, it felt different and a warm feeling passed from her fingers through to his skin. But the quality time he'd been enjoying came abruptly to an end when, in the distance, he heard someone yelling the baseball tune that played over the tanoy at the stadiums, and turned to see the Little Leaguers approaching.

"Relax," she told him, patting his back. "You'll be fine. They'll go easy on you."

"Collins! I hope you're ready to lose because I plan on wiping the floor with your baseball-virgin ass!" Chloe yelled at him, her hair in bunches and a baseball jacket hanging off her thin frame. Blake tossed Alex an accusing look as she cringed beside him and put her hands on her hips.

"Alex! Long time no see, girl!" jostled a tall, black boy with glasses on. She grinned and met him in a hug.

"Hey Derek," said Alex before turning to Blake. "Blake, this is Derek, Joe, Michael, Tom, Rachel, Tiffany, Jaden, Bethany, and Rick," she told him, pointing to each of them in turn. They all gave him a friendly smile. "And of course you know Chloe, the baseball-virgin slayer," deadpanned Alex.

"Nah, I'm just kidding," Chloe said with a wave of her hand.

"Ok," one of the boys - Rick - said in a voice full of authority. "Time's a wastin'. And we're got to pick teams. We're a bit short on numbers but six aside will do. Alex, you and I are captains, and I'll take Blake first."

"And I'll take Chloe."

They went on for a while, picking their teams, and Blake noticed how quickly everyone accepted him and treated him as if he'd always been a fixture instead of the tagalong he was in reality. He was placed as a second baseman, which he didn't mind. Being a pitcher would have been too much pressure, but Alex glanced over and gave him a reassuring wink, which made him relax his shoulders which he had unknowingly tensed.

The game moved along pretty quickly, and he noticed they liked to goad each other with each bat. When it came to Alex's turn, they upped their jibes – crying out how she was going to be rusty because in baseball it didn't matter if you could pirouette. Alex didn't seem to mind; she just rolled her eyes and lined up with the bat, rolling her shoulders to limber up and keeping her eye on Rick, who was pitching. He threw her a curveball the first time, and Blake winced at the "Strike One!" even though she was on the opposite team. The second ball – a fastball – connected with the bat loudly and he watched as it flew across the diamond. He nearly caught her out; running to reach the second pad before she did, but she landed with a spectacular dive into the dust – the kind he only saw in movie. She rose, dusted herself off and nudged him with her elbow.

"Better luck next time, eh Collins?" she teased lightly with a wink.

The teams switched not long after that and before knew it Blake was at the batting pad, holding the wooden bat gingerly. Everything Alex had taught him had left his mind, and even though he was enjoying himself, this was the bit that he was worried about. He didn't want to look like an idiot after all.

"Are you ready to be slain?" Chloe said, tossing the ball in the air and catching it with a big grin.

"Go easy on him," Alex warned from fourth base.

"Alright alright," Chloe grumbled, lining up. The first ball flew past him before he knew what was happening, and it was only because Rachel behind him had yelled "Strike One!" he knew he hadn't hit it. "Sorry," grinned Chloe. "I couldn't resist." She raised her arm again as he got ready, and threw it hard, but instead of connecting with bat, it bounced off Blake's knee. Hard.

"Ow," he said with a frown, rubbing it. Everyone was laughing – not unkindly – and even Alex shrugged at him, placating his bad temper.

"My bad," Chloe said. "I'm usually left field."

"Quit making excuses and throw the ball!" someone cried.

She sniffed and lined up again, pausing before she threw it. He was ready this time – and when it came at him, he swung at it as hard as he could. He felt the ball hit the wood with some force and watched as it went sailing across the diamond, out of the court. He stared at it disbelievingly for a few moments – they all did – until someone pushed him and said 'go on Blake! Run!", so he tossed down the bat and did as he was told. Suddenly they were all yelling; some were shouting at him, some were shouting at the fielders to get the ball. But he just ran, rushing past first base – then second. He just registered them finding the ball and throwing back down the court. They'd be sending it to Alex, so she could catch him out, so he ran faster, pushing himself to make it before the ball did.

"Come on!" he heard Alex yell, her hands ready for a catch. He was metres from the pad, and Jaden threw the ball to Alex as hard as she could.

He heard the 'no!" escape his lips before he could stop it, as he threw himself at the base, diving at the dust in an attempt to reach it faster. Alex, ball in hand, turned quickly and darted towards it, trying to do the same but Blake was there first, rolling on his side, tumbling and landing on his back, grazing all his exposed skin on the rough ground. He lay there in the dust for a moment, wheezing and coughing a bit, conscious that Alex was strewn across his feet.

"Please tell me that was in," he laughed weakly, as he lifted his head to look at her. She yanked off her cap and grinned at him; she looked beat and her face red from the excitement. She leant over him, and took him by the shoulders, shaking him.

"You got a home run, Blake!" she laughed. "Your first game and you scored a home run!"

"I think I also broke my back, so be a little more gentle" he croaked, clasping her wrists to stop her shaking him. She looked at him with a proud smile, her loose hair dangling forward and her cheeks glowing. For a second, they were frozen in their odd position – Alex above him, and Blake gripping her tightly, feeling the heat of her skin beneath his fingertips. Did she notice the shift in the atmosphere too? As clichéd as it sounded, it felt as if the earth had stood still briefly. If it had been just them on the field, he might have reached up and kissed her in the moment, but the rest of the team were gathering and jostling around him excitedly and the moment passed as quickly as it had come.

"That was so awesome!"

"It was like in slow motion...like a movie!"

"You dove like a pro! I've never seen-"

"Blake!"

The voice that called his name was sharper and colder than the others, and he recognised it instantly. He turned his head to see his mother standing a little off from them, glowering at them all.

"Mom," he said nervously, rising to his feet, shaking the dust off. "What...what are you doing here?"

"I might ask you the same thing," she said, and the air around them grew a little frosty. "This doesn't look like the library."

Alex frowned with confusion and rose too, joining her friend by his side. "The library?"

Frances' eyes flitted to Alex sharply. "You said you were going to the library, didn't you Blake?"

Blake ran his fingers through his hair, the boulder-sized knot of dread sinking further into his stomach. "Well, yeah..." _No, no, no._ She wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't how it was supposed to play out.

Alex came to his rescue. "Mrs. Collins, is there a problem?"

Frances scanned Alex's dirty, exhausted form with a shrewd eye and regarded her coldly. "Yes, there's a problem, and no doubt you're the cause of it."

"I beg your pardon?"

Frances turned her whole body towards her and paced forward. "Was this your idea? Coming here and getting Blake to participate in this ridiculous scheme?"

Alex looked stunned, looking to Blake for some help. "I suggested it, yeah, but I didn't realise you were so against it otherwise..."

"Against it?" Frances repeated loudly. "I should think I am against something that distracts my son's focus from what is important and puts his future in jeopardy. He might have broken something."

"Honestly, Mom," Blake muttered, aware of how quiet everyone was being, watching on in silent shock. "It's not that big a deal."

Frances ignored him, and focused on Alex. "I warned him this would happen, and now I find him playing baseball when he should be studying, and throwing himself around a court as if he were made of rubber."

"And that's my fault?" Alex asked. Blake watched Alex lift her chin proudly, ready for a fight. He should have known she wouldn't take his Mom's crap. Thousands would, but not Alexandra Hale.

"Of course it's your fault. You've influenced him! Your friendship has been nothing but a _distraction_ from the moment it began. If you'd have just done as you were supposed to," Frances chided, "that is – simply _dance _with him – then none of this would have arisen."

"You of all people, Mrs. Collins, should know that a better personal relationship leads to a better professional one. Blake and I were at each other's throats half the time, and since we started being friends, our dancing has improved," Alex countered. Blake had to admire her – not only for her audacity, but also for the coherence with which she was arguing with his mother. Not to mention she had a damn good point, and his Mom looked ruffled.

"Yes, but how far has this personal relationship gone, and at what cost? I've noticed a change in my son since you started working together – he's started lying, he lacks motivation-"

"The change you noticed was that he was happy!" Alex interrupted, crying out in exasperation. At least it wasn't just him she lost her cool with. "I'm not going to pretend it's all me, but he had something else in his life beside dance to sustain him. And maybe if you weren't so concerned, Mrs. Collins, with producing the perfect dancer, and someone to uphold the name of Collins, you might see that your son has been going through the motions for a long time, doing everything that you ask of him, breaking his back, working so hard that he-"

"Enough," Frances said loudly, and the force with which she said it made Alex clenched his fists beside her, but she stopped talking all the same. Frances levelled up to Alex and met her eyes in a steady glare. When she spoke, her words were even and quiet.

"How dare you tell me about my son? Before your partnership, my son would never have dreamed of taking part in such a foolish idea as this," she snapped, gesturing to the baseball diamond, "nor would he have lied to me about where he was going. "Now, I tolerated your partnership and friendship because he assured me you were a good dancer, as did Director Franklin, but now I'm going to have to suggest that you terminate it. For both of your sakes'."

"Mom," Blake interrupted from where he stood. "We talked about this. You don't get to make that decision."

"When you're completely incapable of my making an objective decision, then I have every right to do it for you. No son of mine is going to waste his time, or ruin his future, for baseball, or a girl," she added, tossing a scathing look in Alex's direction. Alex had bowed her head, but snapped it up in surprise, looking puzzled.

"Hey!" one of the little leaguers piped up from behind them. "He wouldn't be wasting anything. Alex works hard, she's a good dancer."

"We've not seen her for months because she's so focused on her dance studies," someone else said.

"And there ain't nothing wrong with baseball!"

"It's alright guys," Alex told them, waving a hand to hush them. Blake heard the defeat in her voice. "It's fine."

"It's not fine," Derek cried. "She's actin' like you ain't good enough or something."

"I said its fine," Alex repeated, raising her voice. "Just let it go."

Frances had an eyebrow quirked at their altercation but said nothing. Instead she looked at her son. "We're going home, and you can explain yourself there."

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it abruptly. Blake felt Alex's eyes fall to him where he stood, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her for the moment. He knew what awaited him there; questioning, betrayal, hurt, anger and most of all, disappointment. Sure enough, when he brought his eyes upwards to rest on hers, her face was a mask of contempt, and her eyes seemed to be silently willing him to open his mouth and right all this wrongness, say something, _do something_. But he said nothing, did nothing, only mutely turned and strode past his mother, leaving Alex and her old friends staring after him.

XXXXX

Frances was pouring herself a glass of wine when she heard the front door slam, and Blake return. He'd gotten in his own car, but she'd arrived some time before him, waiting for him to pull into the drive and come inside to talk. She heard her son pause at the door, sigh heavily, seemingly deliberating over his next move. She suspected he'd go up to his room; he was particularly deft at withdrawing when he was upset or angry. He was a lot like her in that respect. She could see Chase growing up to have Clive's temperament - laidback, indifferent, and when something really bothered him, he'd explode for a time before returning to his relaxed state. Nothing bothered Clive for long. No, Blake was a lot like her. He'd deal with his emotions privately rather than getting into a fight.

But when she turned around to leave the kitchen, glass in hand, her son was standing in the doorway, glowering at her stoically.

"Blake," said Frances calmly. "Why don't we move through to the lounge and talk?"

"No," he retorted in a low - and if she wasn't mistaken - threatening tone. "I don't want to talk to you. You couldn't leave well enough alone could you?" Blake said vehemently, standing his ground in the doorway.

"I didn't do anything Blake," dismissed Frances, picking up her glass. "You're the one who's been lying to his parents, sneaking around. It was Alex's house you went to all those times, wasn't it? To watch _baseball_." She said the word like it was dirty.

"Yes," Blake admitted, defiant now. "So what?"

"Blake, how many times-"

"I happen to like baseball. Which you'd know, if you knew the first thing about me."

"And I suppose _Alex_ knows you better than I do, hmmm?"

Blake folded his arms. "As a matter of fact, yes. She made an effort to. But thanks to you, she's never going to speak to me again."

"Well," sniffed Frances, "that may be for the best."

"How?" her son spat.

"I did warn you Blake, that I thought you were spending too much time together, and for the wrong reasons, and now look at the consequences," stated Frances matter-of-factly. "Besides, you assured me that nothing was going on."

Blake stiffened with rage, and his emotions coursing through him like bullets. "_Nothing_ was going on," he growled. "And now it never will."

"Oh, don't tell me you were seriously considering dating this girl-"

"Why wouldn't I?" Blake snapped. "I like her Mom!" he cried, growing angrier, and abandoning the calm and collected way in which he wanted to confront her. He seemed to be getting somewhere by shouting – she was flinching with ever word, and looked genuinely shocked. He supposed it was because he never spoke out about how he felt. "I really like her! I enjoy spending time with her, being near her, just seeing her. At first, I thought we had nothing in common but...I don't know...she seems to know me better than I know myself sometimes. She's sensitive about my thoughts, needs and feelings. What _I_ think about things, as opposed to what I'm supposed to think. She makes me feel good about myself," Blake continued, ignoring his mother's stunned face. "Which is more than anyone else does around here. It's not about dance - although she's the best damn partner I could have got. It's about me losing my only good friend. Because that's all she's done 'wrong' Mom - be my friend, and let me be me. And now I've lost that. She's the best thing to happen to me in a long time, and you couldn't just let me have that could you?"

He yelled the final sentence with such force, Frances took a step back, not daring to utter anything until she was sure he was finished.

"Blake, I promise you, if I'd have known how much..." she stuttered quietly. She stood with her mouth agape for a moment as if she couldn't finish her declaration.

"Don't. Don't stand there and pretend it would have been any different," Blake replied with narrowed eyes, although he'd gone back to talking quietly. "If I'd have told you how much I cared about her, it would have only cemented your determination to get rid of her. Regardless of her dancing ability. Because you don't want anything to hold me back, do you Mom? Least of all, my own happiness," he shot at her, turning to walk away.

"I never...when she said those things," Frances said, wavering slightly, making him pause. "She was right wasn't she?"

"It doesn't mean she should have said them," Blake tossed over his shoulder. He couldn't believe he was back to trying to make his mother feel better. "I should have been less of a coward and stood up to you a long time ago. It's not just your fault."

"Contrary to popular belief, Blake," said Frances, her voice regaining a little of its strength but sounding surprisingly soft, "I never intended to hurt you. I've only ever...wanted what was best for you. Perhaps you're right - perhaps it's been some time since I knew what that was." She looked grave, and cast her eyes downward to avoid looking at his face. Blake concealed his surprise; had his mother just admitted to being wrong?

"Maybe," he said blankly, unable to say anything else.

"Perhaps I could set it right," Frances muttered, mostly to herself, but she looked up at her son. "Would you like _me_ to talk to Alex?"

Blake shook his head. "No. You've done enough," he sighed. He hadn't meant it to sound harsh, but a hurt look still flashed across Frances' face. "This is something I'll have to sort out myself."


	20. Run, Alex, Run!

Chapter Twenty – Run Alex Run!

Despite his words to his mother, Blake had no idea how he was going to go about smoothing things over with Alex. If he'd had hopes that she would have had chance to cool off before school on Monday, they were all shattered as his eyes met hers across the classroom in first period, and he saw how much contempt was behind them. She didn't acknowledge him beyond that, and he didn't see her for the rest of the day, and he was starting to wonder if she was even going to turn up to rehearsal. He needed to talk to her, to make things right, but how could he do that if she refused to speak to him?

He walked towards the studio after lessons, feeling more anxious than he had done in a long time, hoping silently that she was in there warming up, even though in his heart he expected her not to be. What he would do if that was the case, he didn't know. He rounded the corner, and took a look inside before going in. He exhaled deeply; she was in there, not dressed for rehearsing, but at least she was there. Her back was to the door, and her gaze on her feet, so she didn't see him come in.

"Hey." She looked up sharply at his voice, and scanned him up and down, but she didn't say anything at first.

"You're late," Alex said blankly after a few moments, looking at the clock on the wall, and then to her Casio on her wrist.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry," he managed. He'd been working up courage in the men's bathrooms, giving himself a mental pep talk in the mirror, not that he could tell her that. "Look, can we talk about the weekend because-"

"I haven't got time to talk, I have to leave early. I just stuck around to let you know that I'll be looking for another partner," she said. Her voice was so even and careful it took Blake by surprise. He was used to her anger, but for her to be measured threw him off balance.

"What are you talking about?"

She sighed, a little more agitatedly this time, and folded her arms. "I'm going to look for another partner."

"Why?"

"I would have thought that was obvious," she retorted sharply.

"Well maybe I'm just being a little slow today – so indulge me, and tell me _why._"

She paused. "I don't think we work well together anymore."

Blake snorted. "That's stupid. There are a lot of things we don't do well together – dancing is not one of them."

She shrugged, and the corner of her mouth tugged upwards into a kind of sneer. "Well, maybe I don't want to _distract _you any longer. Since I'm so obviously dragging you down with me," she added in a low voice.

The room fell into an uneasy silence as her words came out; even though she still kept fairly quiet, the vitriol behind each word hit him just as hard as if she'd actually punched him.

"About what my Mom said-" Blake started

"Save it. Don't try and say that she didn't mean it, or that she's sorry. Your Mom isn't the kind of person who back-tracks on her opinions," Alex interrupted, sounding cold and hard. "You know what? I get it, as far as she's concerned. I understand her, and in her own twisted brain, everything she said and did is because she wants the best for you. She has a weird way of going about it, but she just wants to see you succeed."

Blake briefly felt a trickle of relief, but it disappeared quickly when he realised that she still looked and sounded furious.

"What I don't get, is you Blake," she finished. He frowned at her and crossed his arms.

"What do you mean?"

Alex stared at him. "What do I mean? I'm supposed to be your friend. Your Mom tore me to shreds on that baseball field. She said some awful things and you...you just stood there and let it happen. You didn't say a word. You didn't contradict her, you didn't defend me. Hell, the guys from my old team did more to stick up for me than you did, and I haven't seen half of them in months!" Finally she raised her voice, but instead of feeling like this was his cue to jump in and start biting back, he felt as if he was shrinking, disarmed by her and by the brief flash of tears he thought he saw building up her eyes, only to be blinked away.

"Not to mention you didn't tell her you about coming to see me, and lied to her, and snuck around like I was some dirty little secret," she continued. "Why on earth did you lie? For a start, how does that make me look? Your mom thinks I'm some kind of rebel trying to ruin your life and career. I thought she knew we were hanging out, and then I find out you haven't said a word? It makes me feel like I'm nothing – like you're using me to make a point with your parents-"

"That's not true!" Blake said, finally finding his voice.

"Then why lie Blake? Why lie about it?"

He faltered, trying to word it, and it gave her time to jump in again. "Are you ashamed of me?"

"What? No! Why would I be?"

"Let's face it – I'm not exactly the kind of person you or your family would normally associate with."

"You're making it sound like we think we're royalty or something," Blake shot at her.

"You do!"

"I don't!" he shouted, his voice ringing through the studio, making her flinch. "I don't think that way, and if you'd been any sort of friend to me, you'd know that."

"I thought I did know you, but you just did a complete one-eighty over the weekend went back to being a total jerk!"

He wasn't able to control his own temper now. "For your information, I told my mother exactly what I thought over what had happened. I didn't like it any more than you! And she IS sorry!"

She threw her arms in the air. "It's too late Blake! I've already been embarrassed and put down in front of all my friends, but the simple fact of the matter is, you're ashamed of our friendship and you didn't have the guts to defend me."

"I'm not ashamed of you Alex!"

"Then why would you lie?" she cried at him, not hiding her tears very well this time. She quickly wiped them away, looking down at the floor as if they had spelled defeat for her. Her heard her sniff and sighed heavily. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't tell her he'd fallen for her. It was just too honest at this moment in time. But a little honesty wouldn't hurt, not if he wanted this girl to stick around.

"I guess I liked having something that was...untouched by my life. A friend who liked me regardless of whether I could dance or not," he said finally. "It had nothing to do with rebelling or acting out or being ashamed. I just wanted something that...was my own. I didn't mean to make you a secret but my Mom would never actually approve of me doing the kind of things we get up to. She said as much to me one time when she was here in the studio," he admitted, and Alex's face lost a little of its fury, obviously remembering. "And, no, honestly, you're not like my family or the people we 'associate' with-"

"What?" she jumped in, narrowing her eyes a little.

"But that's what makes you better than them! I like that you're different. And _not_ because I was on some kind of wild rebellious cavort and I was using you. Because you're the first person who didn't attach me to my parents – you know, 'he's really his parent's son' or 'the Collins' kid' – but as _Blake_. A person," he added, feeling a little nauseous. "Someone I could do….normal things with…something as simple as watching a game, or go for ice cream. Things I can't do with my family. Someone who treated me like a person, and apparently liked me for who I was. If that's using you," he sighed, "enjoying myself with you, then I guess I used you."

She looked at him, face devoid of any distinguishable emotions. "I can understand that, but you made me feel like I wasn't good enough to be your partner, or even your friend."

"I know that now, and I'm really sorry."

She paused again, and nodded at his apology. "But I still think it's best if we discontinue our partnership."

"Don't be ridiculous," he groaned, rolling his eyes. "You won't find another partner now. And we work well together."

"I really don't care," she snapped. "I can barely look at you, let alone dance with you. Don't you understand? I can't do it. I don't think you realise how much you've hurt me."

"I think I do," he said quietly. And he did, because he was about to lose her over that hurt, and it was affecting him just as much. "Alex, I am sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am."

She looked at him and pursed her lips for a moment, deep in thought. It seemed forever before finally, Alex sighed deeply. "Fine."

Blake looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"I forgive you, at least for not saying anything to your Mom," she said calmly, grabbing her bag. He stared at her, waiting for a change in her countenance but she looked as blank as she did before. "I'll see you tomorrow in class."

"Wait a second," Blake commanded. "Where are you going?"

"Home."

"You don't have anything else to say to me?"

Alex's eyes narrowed to slits and she folded her arms again. "I hope you don't want me to apologise?"

Blake gritted his teeth. "No, but I just spent the last," he glanced at the clock, "six minutes being brutally honest with you – so much so my ego's been a little dented – and nothing feels different."

"It's not going to go back to normal overnight Blake," she snapped. "I still kind of hate you right now. I'm not even sure I want to be friends with you after this weekend. I listened to what you said and I'm stuck with you partner-wise, but I still think to stop either of us from suffering in the future that we should maintain a healthy, professional relationship that isn't rife with emotions. We don't have to be best friends to dance."

Blake stared at her as she tucked some hair behind her ears, and let out a disbelieving laugh that echoed around the studio.

She frowned. "What's so funny?"

"You sound like my mother," he replied coolly. The studio filled with another silence, with Alex staring past him at something on the other side of the room.

"Isn't that what you want?" she said eventually. Blake didn't reply. Of course that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted Alex, and he wanted things to go back to the way they were, before he'd screwed everything up. And he wanted - most of all - to find the courage to tell her how he felt. Instead, he looked at his feet and changed the subject.

"Where do we go from here then?" He heard the bitter tone in his voice, and was struggling to hide it, though he doubted she picked up on it.

"Rehearsal on Monday. Three times a week as normal. And we'll see what happens," she said simply. and turned on her heels to walk out of the door, leaving him in the studio alone.

XXXXX

Maintaining that healthy, professional relationship was a lot harder than Alex had anticipated. She had been determined that they could do it, if only to prove Mrs. Collins wrong, but it was just too hard. Not because she found it too easy to get along with Blake, and to be natural in his presence, but because she was just so mad at him over the whole thing, despite her saying she'd forgiven him. She hadn't really; although she understood the reasons behind his actions, that didn't mean she liked or condoned them, and her unforgiveness was filtering into the way she spoke to him and looked at him. When they weren't working in a frosty silence, they were screaming blue murder at one another.

Mind you, he wasn't making it easy. When she said she wanted it to go back to them being professional, he obviously took that as his cue to go back to being the focused slave driver he had been before. He'd been snappy and critical, reverting back to his original self, and prompting nothing but a furious stupor from his partner. She couldn't get a break, and it was making things worse than tense.

"You're sickling," Blake sighed during one rehearsal, straightening up from where he had been crouching. Alex snapped out of the position she was in and crossed her arms.

"I was _not_ sickling," she said through her teeth. "I don't sickle. Any more than you do."

Blake sighed impatiently and put his hands on his hips. "Get into the tendu again."

"You're not correcting me on my warm up!" she hissed. "You should even be watching. You should be...doing your own!" Alex inhaled deeply through her nose. "Just...stop talking to me."

"Well, it's hard to concentrate when I can see someone out of the corner of my eye _sickling!_" Blake bit back with a clenched jaw.

She shook her head and begrudgingly pointed out her leg to prove her point. "Satisfied?"

"Well, you're not doing it now," Blake snapped as if it were obvious. "But you were."

"I am so close," Alex said in a low, threatening tone as she abandoned her position again and stepped over to him, "to _murdering_ you, it is unbelievable!" She jammed her finger into his chest as if to make her point clearer. He didn't even flinch, much to her annoyance. "All you have done since I came in is nitpick at everything and anything, and I've only just started _warming up!_ If this is how it's going to be," she laughed in a disbelieving tone, "then I will leave now. I'm not in the mood for your games today Blake Collins."

Blake stared at her, keeping his stance. "Have you finished?" he asked, condescendingly. She narrowed her eyes.

"Have you?"

"Are we going to do this all afternoon?" Blake sighed.

"No," Alex cried, clenching her fists besides her body. "Because if this carries on, I'll make good of my threat and throttle you!"

The door to the studio swung open on them standing face to face, Blake just above her looking down with a face full of thunder, and Alex's just about matching it. They turned to look to see their principal – Director Franklin – with two board members and a young girl, probably a few years younger than them, and a man who they couldn't place, staring at them. The Director, seemingly oblivious to the tense air and arguing that had just occurred, beamed at them. He was a tall wiry man, who had once danced but injured his knee young and so turned to teaching what he loved instead as many dancers did when the active side of their profession grew out of reach. His hair was a dark black, with traces of steely gray and he had a rugged Italian look to him behind his round wire glasses. He wore the most obscure of ties, and today he wore a yellow one, with Vincent Van Gogh's sunflowers on it.

"Ah," their teacher said with a quaint smile. "I was hoping it was you two rehearsing. I was just showing Miss Martinez and her father round the school. Pia will be joining us next fall, from Mexico."

Alex and Blake nodded respectfully. A flash of recognition passed between Blake and the board members; everyone who was remotely connected to the school had been vetoed and was there on approval by his parents – most of them were old friends of the family that Francis and Clive had worked with at some point in their dancing past. He gave them a polite smile and stood up a little straighter.

"Well, this is one of our studios Pia," Director Franklin said warmly. "This is one of the largest as well, frequently used for rehearsal space, which is exactly what Blake and Alex are doing. These are two of our brightest and most promising students," he added, addressing Mr. Martinez – who was as tall as he was, but not as thin, and with olive skin and oily hair slicked back into a short, ponytail. "Blake's parents founded the school."

"Is that so?" Mr. Martinez said smoothly with a strong accent.

"Yes. Blake and Alex will both be seniors but the time you start Pia, so be sure to seek them out should you need any advice. I know they'd be happy to give it, wouldn't you?" Franklin asked the pair.

"Of course," they murmured in unison. Alex smiled widely at Pia.

"How long have you been a dancer?" she asked kindly.

"Since I was five years old," the girl replied in clear English, with a slight accent, not as heavily laden as her fathers.

"Well, MSA is a really great school," Alex assured her, and then fell back into silence.

"Would you mind showing us something you've been working on?" the female board member asked, directing the question at Alex but glancing at them both. Alex swallowed hard and looked to Blake, whose facial expression was unreadable. They were used to being asked to dance – especially improvisation, which their teachers had decided was the best way to spend a lesson these days – but they were fighting, and although she couldn't speak for the both of them, Alex really didn't want to be touched by him at the moment in time. Never mind the fact that if they did a lift, he'd probably let her fall and break her neck, just to spite her.

"Well, I don't know..." she started.

"Sure," Blake answered, over the top of her, pulling the remote from his pocket. Alex took a deep breath, and paced away to her position, knowing there was no arguing. They didn't have much of a choice anyway; she knew that three of the four adults watching were close friends of his parents, and if he was insolent then the report would get back to them. But she still couldn't help but feel like he'd thrown her to the wolves.

"The first quarter?" Blake asked her from where he stood. "That's only just past a minute on the track."

"Should be fine," she replied with a forced smile. The girl across the room was watching her intently as if in some kind of awe, and it made Alex feel _nervous_. She didn't normally get nervous, but having another person watch you with such naive fascination was flattering, and a lot of pressure. She had to put her rift with Blake aside and concentrate on her steps.

But that seemed a little difficult, when no more than five metres away stood Blake, in all his thunderous glory, with arms and body waiting to catch her in the first lift. It was Alex's technique to focus wholly on whomever she was dancing with, or entirely on herself – to completely disregard anybody else in the room, and to let those like Pia and her father, and the faculty members by the door just slip away, letting dance and the motions cloud over. It was impossible to block out Blake from her thoughts, when she was going to have to focus on him in order to dance.

What was wrong with him anyway, she asked herself as the music started and she moved quickly into position. He was acting as angry as she was, and he had no right to. It was as if he thought she'd overreacted over the whole thing! That was men all over as far as Alex was concerned – it was never going to be _his_ fault was it? And he seemed to like the rise he was getting out of her, the pretentious ass.

So nothing had changed then over the course of these past few months, she thought as she did a series of chaînés turns into Blake's chest. They hadn't made the progression from – let's be frank about it – bitter enemies to friends at all. There were back at square one with King Collins biting at her and treating her like she just put on her first pair of demi's.

No, no, no. She hadn't come into this relationship caring about what Blake Collins thought about her, so why did his opinion matter so much now? Why did it _hurt_ so much that he had seemed ashamed of her? Alex had of course ranted to Jayne, and to her father about how angry she was, but the reply had been unanimous – why was it bothering her so much? And though she could explain the situation, the words as to _why _just wouldn't formulate in the way she wanted.

What she wanted to say was 'because he can't treat people like that' and what would have fallen out would have been 'because I realised I care about him, and I thought...maybe he liked me too."

Because that was what it boiled down to wasn't it? She'd figured out that she had a stupid crush on Blake Collins. When it started, she wasn't sure – it could have been any point over the past few months, during which time they'd gotten so comfortable with one another she hadn't noticed how close they'd grown, or how attracted she'd become to him. She was supposed to hate him right now (and to some degree she did) but she couldn't shake the hurt she felt over the rejection behind it all.

And now, with his hands on her as he guided her through the steps, she was starting to feel like a mess; because each touch was like a trail of fire, and she was torn between leaving and never wanting to feel the burn again, and letting it consume her.

XXXXX

_Attitude a la seconde..._

_Pirouette..._

Blake watched her face as they danced; she seemed to be concentrating hard on something, so deeply in fact that her eyebrows had knit in some kind of tormented frown and she was barely meeting his eyes, which was discouraging to say the least. She was really more stubborn than he had realised. Perhaps he should apologise again, he thought, looking at her confused expression once more. No, absolutely not. She was being ludicrous over the whole thing; he wasn't going to take the flack for her insecurities. Besides, he'd apologised and he wasn't going to keep doing so.

_Grande jete..._

But weren't they a little his fault, he thought they began to echappe in unison. At the end of the day, how difficult would it have been to stand up to his Mom, and tell her the truth from the outset? And look what his concern had cost him; Alex wasn't speaking to him, he certainly had no shot as far as romance was concerned, and he realised in the whole school, she really was his only friend.

Not to mention the fact that he wanted her so badly it was killing him. Why was it that when you couldn't have something, you wanted it more? The tension between them had been mounting for days now, and he was sure that it would break soon and he would either kill her or kiss her.

They finished abruptly as Blake halted Alex in her pirouettes at the waist and her torso fell into his with an immediate closeness that neither of them knew how to act in. For a moment, their faces were too close and they paused. Alex's lips parted as if she were going to say something, but applause from the outer rim of the room brought their focus sharply back from their own thoughts to their duties. They stepped apart, breathing heavily and crossing their arms.

"Splendid, really, the both of you. Emotive, and impressive technical work too," the female board member smiled. "I'll be sure to pass this on to your mother and father Blake. They'll be so proud."

Blake nodded, but didn't speak.

"And you...Miss..."

"Hale," Alex responded, breathlessly. The woman frowned.

"It's a long shot, but you wouldn't be William Hale's daughter would you?"

Alex's mouth opened with surprise. "Yes...yes...I am," she stammered. No one ever asked after her father.

The woman nodded knowingly. "I thought so. My husband works at Porter Logan Advertising too, and I've met your father on a few occasions at functions. Very _amusing_ man. He's always talking about his daughter and her dancing – that's how I wondered if you were her, not to mention you have his eyes."

Alex nodded, smiling and colouring a little.

"Your father is proud no doubt?"

"He is," Alex replied quietly. Pia was staring at them with a face full of admiration, her smile looking as if it would burst her face, and she muttered something in Mexican to her father who only replied with a deep 'Si, Pia.'

"This is a more independent style of learning; though Blake and Alex learnt the basics in the classroom, you can see they added their own ingenuity to a choreographed routine," Franklin explained.

Pia nodded. "That was wonderful. You're amazing dancers. I just felt like your dance told a story. That's what I want to do when I dance."

Both Alex and Blake nodded, hugely embarrassed, and unsure how to answer.

"Excellent," Director Franklin interjected with a happy expression and a clap of his hands. "Well, Gloria, if you'd like to take the Martinez's on to the music department, we'll show them the next leg of the tour," the Director suggested to the strawberry blonde board member. The woman nodded and led the guests away, followed by the other board member, leaving Director Franklin.

"Thank you," Franklin smiled. "I knew I could trust you two to deliver something that would not only impress our guests but the board too." He paused with a deep breath. "I'm glad I decided to feature you both at more functions – that was truly breathtaking to watch. If that was anything to go by, the Christmas Fundraiser should be very exciting."

And he left the room with a smile.

The partners stood in a crisp silence for a moment, still catching their breath from the dance though they were unsure as to whether it was the pace of their routine that was making them breathless, or the emotion behind it.

"So," Alex began, swinging her arms a little. "That was an unexpected ego boost."

Blake smiled weakly. "The girl seemed nice."

"She's obviously very enthusiastic about dance."

"Hmmm."

They fell into another silence, with both of them thinking about how it seemed they could not interact in the same way, and could only discuss other people when really the burning issue was each other. Blake pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed; the atmosphere wasn't going to get any lighter, and Alex looked tired despite her strong stance and heavy frown.

"Do you want to call it a day?" Blake asked quietly. "Or just have a break?"

"We'll just break," Alex replied slowly, and a little coolly. "I want to finish the last part of this routine," she added blankly, pacing over to her bag and fixing her ribbons.

"Can we talk please?" Blake asked suddenly, frowning and turning towards her with his hands on his hips. "Or are we just going to carry on like this?"

Alex glanced up from where she was crouched with a clear expression, devoid of any emotion. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want _both_ of us to talk to each other, normally, and to stop fighting. It's ridiculous. One of us will end up dead at the other one's hands if we're not careful," he said with an incredulous laugh.

Alex straightened up slowly, barefooted and holding a drinks bottle in her hand, playing with the cap before twisting it off and taking a drink from it. "Well, talk then."

"This is what I mean – you're hostile and confrontational. Don't you want to try and sort things out? You know, for the sake of our partnership?" he said coldly, gesturing to where they had been dancing though simply because it gave him an excuse to look away from her.

"Well," Alex said quietly. "I think it's safe to say that our dancing won't suffer because we're not talking. Like that woman said, we were pretty good," she said with another forced smile. "Isn't _that_ what you want? And if Mom and Dad saw that, they'd have no concerns." She waved a hand. "Shucks, they'd be proud."

Blake glared at her. "You're not being fair Alex."

"No?"

"No," he repeated, a little louder. She didn't say anything at first, but when he tried to go on she opened her mouth.

"Let's just get on shall we? We've got half an hour left, and we should use it well." Blake bit back the words he'd been about to say and sighed heavily. How the hell was he going to fix this?

XXXXX

How the hell was she going to fix this?

They'd gone back to dancing, but that didn't seem to make things better as it usually did. In fact she was pretty sure it was making everything worse. With the awareness of her new feelings, each touch was like a punch to the stomach now, and she was feeling nauseous. How was she supposed to stay strong and stay mad when he made her feel like this?

"Hang on," he said frowning, "get into the fifth step again." He started to go about adjusting her, and she couldn't muster the strength to come up with some witty quip. Instead, she let him do his work in silence, wondering why the minutes on the clock seemed to be ticking by so slowly. She needed to get out of here.

Then, in an unexpected movement, his hand brushed over her collarbone as he corrected her; a subtle, gentle touch that was completely accidental but it was too much. The dull ache in her stomach intensified and multiplied into a supernova of heat. She knew her skin was flushing wildly, so she tried to keep her features blank. His hands innocently set her arms to rights, and he carried on muttering to her, not realising what he was doing her body.

"Just...stop a second," she managed to breathe. Blake faltered, looking mildly irritated and dropped his hands from where he had been adjusting her.

"What?"

"I...need a drink - I'm thirsty."

He scanned her expression. "Are you feeling ok?" he asked. "You look...unwell."

"Of course," she snapped, ignoring his concern. It only made the starburst do somersaults, and she was trying to calm it down. She barged past him and stormed over to where her bag was. "I just need some water."

"Fine," retorted Blake, obviously irritated at her tone. "Hurry up."

Alex spun on her heels, bottle in hand. "I'm thirsty, Blake. You know, just because you've bypassed all human functions and emotions, doesn't mean I have." She was picking a fight – she knew it – but it was easier to be angry than give in to anything else she might be feeling.

"Very mature," Blake simpered. "Look, can you just grow up so we can get on with this?"

Alex paused for a moment and threw her water bottle down into her bag without a word. "Where are you going?" he asked, realising she was packing away.

"Home," spat Alex. "I can't listen to you anymore. I can't stand to look at you!" she yelled and slammed the door of the studio open before storming through it without a glance back at him.

XXXXX

_Fine, _he thought to himself. _Good riddance._

But his emotions didn't quite match up to that of his thoughts; the revelation that she couldn't stand to be near him anymore stung more than he would have liked it to. And while he knew the Collins in him would have brushed that aside and continued dancing, the _Blake _in him was exhausted and felt like driving his fist into a wall.

Grabbing his own bag and heading for the door, he turned the lights off and began to walk in the direction of the car park. Hopefully, Alex would have got inside her truck and been long gone by now. He frowned as he unlocked his car - no, the truck was broken again wasn't it? She'd mentioned it on the day of the baseball game. William would have come to get her.

What did he care anyway? Why was he still thinking about her? He supposed it was because no matter how much he wanted to hate her with the evident fervour that she so clearly felt for him, he couldn't. Even though he was hoping to get over it quickly. She didn't show any signs of relenting in her crusade against him, so it would be best if he could just get on with his life, and forget that he ever felt anything more than indifference to Alexandra Hale.

He paused again as he started the engine. It was Wednesday - William wouldn't have come to collect her. Even if she'd have rung her father, he worked late on Wednesdays.

So she was walking home.

Not that it made any difference to him, Blake reminded himself as he reversed out and headed home.

It took him less than ten minutes to reach his house but when he pulled up, he didn't get out right away. Angry or not, he was worried. He hadn't seen her walking home, and there were only two routes back to their neighbourhood. The one he'd followed, and the one that cut across the Green.

XXXXX

She knew she'd promised her father that she wouldn't go this way again, but Alex was too tired to pay heed to his warnings. She wanted her own home and bed as soon as possible, so she could cry unseen. The Green was the quickest way, and luckily for her it was a nice day, albeit very cold. She'd be through in no time.

That didn't mean she'd forgone the can of mace. No, no - she was gripping it tightly same always.

How long had she been walking? Nearly half an hour? Less than that? As she looked around at the beat down basketball courts and the graffiti, she quickened her pace a little. She was regretting her rash decision now, but at the time, she'd been too mad to stop herself from storming across the asphalt. She could only hope she looked so angry, no one would touch her.

The wind was picking up, as if attuned to her mood. Alex had seen red, and it was easier to be furious with Blake than it was to admit that despite how much of a jerk he could be, she still felt something for him. That she still wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

Alex shook her head as if to shake away the thoughts. It wasn't going to happen! And the sooner she got over Blake Collins the better. Perhaps she should call it quits completely - partner a freshman, even though they'd be technically behind. Find someone else to practice with. Anyone, she didn't care. She needed to escape Blake; his face, his voice, his touch.

She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples - why him? And why now? She'd gone this long without having any major crushes and Alex knew she'd fallen and fallen hard for Blake. She didn't like this feeling - as if all her hopes and dreams and emotions were bound up in one person. At the moment, he felt like the wrong person.

How could you hate and love someone at the same time?

Alex heard the footsteps behind her somewhere amongst her internal battle and turned her head to see a young boy, not much older than her, following her. He was looking around - checking to see if they were alone - about forty feet away. When he caught her eye, he grinned. The panic rose in Alex's chest; it wouldn't take him long to bridge that gap and reach her. She quickly worked through the logistics. She wasn't far from the main road. Her bag was slung across her and so he couldn't take it easily without a fight.

If it was the bag he wanted.

She swallowed down her fear and the thoughts of how very, very stupid she was, and started to run. He picked up almost immediately, realising she was on to him, but he hadn't expected her to be so fast. Alex silently thanked God she'd played baseball.

_That's all this is, _she tried to tell herself as she shot across the concrete, her assailant in hot pursuit. _Baseball. And you need to make that home run, Hale._

She darted over some makeshift bike jumps - where was everyone? Would anyone help her if they saw? Alex knew she wasn't far from a stretch of parkland that would take her back to the main road, but she was tired and she could feel the boy hot on her heels.

She turned a corner, down an alleyway, and then another left - knowing that this was even more dangerous but it was the only way she _knew_. She heard the boy colliding with the walls in an effort to turn the corners faster but she ran straight down, whipping past gates to people's yards, under wires, and then out onto more tarmac which lead to the woodland.

He was still trying to reach her, and Alex glanced back to see he was close as she went towards the dense trees. They might be thick and she'd be easier to catch, like an animal caught in a thicket. But she might just be able to lose him in them. Her breath was catching as she shot towards the trees, a stitch forming in her side. She could _see _the main road, _hear _cars and sirens. If she could just-

The boy had her and was wrestling with her bag, trying to get it off her back. The can of mace flew out of her hand, and she felt angry that she'd forgotten it was there in the first place. He pulled her to the ground easily, but she swung out her arms, trying to catch him with her fist if she could. She must have done, because she felt her knuckles connect with flesh and the boy grunted angrily, pushing her with enough force to graze her head on the tarmac.

"Hey! Get off her!" someone yelled from far away, and she was flinching too much to see. Alex felt a weight lift off her, some indistinguishable noise and then the sound of feet running quickly.

A pair of hands grasped her quite suddenly, making her find her feet quickly as she tried to get away again, but the hands had a strong hold. Alex struggled, writhing against their grip until they said her name loudly, and yet soothingly at the same time.

"Alex, stop. Alex, it's me, Blake. It's ok. It's alright. Calm down."

She'd never been more pleased to see him, but she couldn't speak, she was so breathless.

"Are you alright?" he asked a little frantically, looking around them to see if they were alone.

She nodded.

"You didn't break anything?"

Alex shook her head; the only pain she had was the stitch in her side and the burn in her throat. Her head stung a little where it had hit the ground, but apart from that, she seemed ok. He held her closely to him, practically supporting her weak, shaking legs and his cool eyes fell to her grazed skin but he didn't make any movement to touch it. Instead, Blake let her go, satisfied she was calmer, and looked down on her with a strange expression - a mix of concern and anger.

"Come on," he commanded, though a little more softly than she expected. "Let's get you home."

The Mustang was parked on the road, in a lay-by and he walked her round to the passenger side before getting in himself. He didn't start the car immediately and instead sat there for a few moments.

"What the hell do you think you were playing at?" he started, not yelling but still talking in a raised voice.

"T-t-trying to get home," she managed, stammering a little, and cursing herself for her weak voice.

"_Across the Green_? How many times do you have to be told that it's not safe?" he asked, frowning hard at her.

"I wanted to get home quickly..."

"You might not have got home at all!" he yelled, making her flinch into her seat. "You came this close to being mugged as it was, and you were lucky to come away with that scratch! But he could have raped you Alex, or killed you!" Blake let out a loud cry and thumped the steering wheel. "I don't care how mad you are at me, or how much we're fighting, don't ever put yourself in that position again, do you hear? You come to me and ask me to take you home. Because I'd rather sit in a car with you hating my guts than I would...than I would..."

He paused, breathing deeply, and rubbed his forehead. The words wouldn't come and Alex didn't offer any.

"Just promise me," he said finally, meeting her eyes and hoping that she'd see how earnest he was being. "Just promise me you'll never go that way home again."

She nodded. Relief coursed through his body - he trusted she'd do what she said this time. She'd had a scare - they both had - and Alex was the sort of person who learnt from her mistakes.

"Are you ok?" he asked her blankly after a while.

"What do you think?" Her voice was still hoarse from running and laced with some asperity.

He ignored her jibe. "Your head isn't bleeding, but it'll need cleaning when you get home."

"Ok," she whispered.

"Are you going to tell William what happened?" he asked carefully.

She cast a reproachful look in his direction. "No, and neither are you."

"If that's what you want."

"It is."

He started the engine silently and pulled away.

"Thank you," she said with some effort. Blake glanced at her to see she was staring out of the window, but she turned when she felt his eyes on her. "For what you did."

He just gave her a nod. He wasn't sure what to say.

"I suppose you think what happened is my own fault," she said, when they stopped at some lights. His head turned sharply towards her and he frowned at her.

"I think what you did was incredibly stupid," he admitted in a low voice, turning his attention back to the road. Her voice was part confrontational, part pitiful as if she wanted to start a fight to make herself feel better, and yet she believed her own words. "But I don't think you deserved it."

She didn't answer at first but sat back in her seat and stared out at the passing scenery. "What were _you_ doing there?" asked Alex after a while, still sounding unusually subdued. He cast a worried glance in her direction - perhaps she was in shock.

"I didn't pass you on the way home, so I knew you must be taking the shortcut," Blake explained, turning right. "I headed back that way across the Green to try and meet you, and that's when I saw you running hell for leather from that boy, and him grab you." He gripped the steering wheel at the vivid memory - fear had made him shout at the boy, and luckily he wasn't armed otherwise Blake and Alex would have stood very little chance. Did she realise, he wondered, that they both could have come off a lot worse. That she could have...she looked too stunned to have had it sink in yet.

"No," Alex asked quietly. "What we you doing there? Why bother to see if I was ok?"

He faltered and pulled up outside her house. A question he'd asked himself on the way back to the Green, but one he couldn't ask now. It was simple. "Because," he answered after a moment, "you've been a good friend to me and...I still care what happens to you however much you hate me."

His words seemed to shock her because she bowed her head and fell silent. "I don't hate you," she muttered quietly after a few moments, her voice sounding shaky and broken. When she looked up, it took him a few seconds to realise - with some horror - that she was fighting tears. And not doing a good job since they were flowing freely down her cheeks. Before he could say anything, she opened the door and got out quickly, sprinting towards her door and going inside without looking back.


	21. Carpe Diem

Chapter 21 – Carpe Diem

She didn't go to the next rehearsal.

Call it cowardice, call it childishness, Alex didn't care, but she couldn't bring herself to go. She wasn't mad at Blake anymore, and that was half the problem, because without the anger what was there? Only her crush and that was making things difficult as it was.

She knew she should have let him know, but she wasn't quite ready to speak to him. After everything that had happened the other day, and her breaking down in front of him, she wasn't sure she could meet his grey eyes and not have the same thing happen again. Worse still, she was sure being around him would trick her feelings out of her, and she didn't want to embarrass herself.

Alex thought he'd be cross, but when she saw him in school the next day, he just looked miserable, and resigned like he'd expected her actions and been defeated by them. When he caught her eye, something indistinguishable passed his over his face – it looked vaguely like hope – but she turned away swiftly and went to her next class.

She was alone in the library, studying during lunch for a midterm she had coming up later in the week, when a shadow crossed over the textbook she was reading. She looked up without thinking, supposing it might be the librarian and had to contain her surprise when she saw it was Blake. He didn't say anything; instead, he stood there, hands in his pockets, very still, staring at her.

"Hi," she said eventually, surprised at how normal she sounded.

"Hi," he repeated. "Can I sit down?"

"Sure," she shrugged, "but I was about to leave."

"Well, I want to talk to you, so can you just stay for a minute?"

As she stuffed a book in her back hastily, she froze, and Blake took that as his cue to sit down opposite her. She hadn't noticed it before but he looked terrible – drawn and pale, and weary. He ran a hand through his messy hair and put an elbow on the table, propping his chin up with his fist.

"You've stopped coming to rehearsals," he said quietly.

"I-I-I told you," she started, "I was going to find another partner."

"I know, but I still think we should stick together." He paused briefly, looking at her carefully, and eventually put his arms out in an open gesture. "Come on Alex – let's stop fighting and move on. Please?"

"No."

"I thought you said you'd forgiven me?"

"I did," she shot back quickly, before closing her eyes and sighing. "But I guess I'm still mad over everything."

"I'd never have guessed," Blake deadpanned.

She tossed him a glare to shut him up, but still didn't say anything.

Blake sighed wearily and raked his hands through his hair again. "Look, I get it – I screwed up the other weekend, and believe me, no one is more sorry than I am. But I can't do this. If it's what you want, we don't have to live in each other's pockets anymore, but I can't stand fighting with you all the time. It's not fun, I don't enjoy it ok?" He paused. "Why can't we just rewind, and go back to when everything was ok?"

He said it mostly to himself, but Alex caught the meaning of every word. She wished the same too – how happy she had been, when Blake was her friend, and none of the drama of the past few weeks had occurred.

"I really need you," he muttered. "I need you to come back ok?"

Alex blinked and looked down at her notes, not really seeing them properly. What did that mean? The great Blake Collins needed her?

"Alex..." He was almost begging now. "Say something."

"We'll keep it professional though," she said blankly, lifting her chin. "No unnecessary lifts, no hanging out unless it's for a class project. We'll just work together."

Blake frowned slightly and took a deep breath. "If that's what you want."

She nodded slowly. "It's for the best I think."

He didn't look as though he agreed with her, but for once he didn't argue. "Fine," he said, rising from his chair and tucking it under the table. "See you on Monday then?"

She nodded again, managing a smile. Alex watched him go as he walked away, and before she could stop herself, she called out after him. He spun around, looking expectant, and that vague glimmer of hope was back. "I...I'm sorry too. For the way I've been acting," she added, tucking some hair behind her ears. "And thanks again, for the other day."

He offered her a smile, which didn't quite reach his eyes, and he turned away again.

XXXXX

William drummed his fingers on the counter in the kitchen, watching the seconds hand move on the clock. In the past seventeen years, Alex had been a good daughter; she'd never given him much cause for concern, she worked hard, she made him proud. But the past few weeks she'd began to trouble him, and if he didn't get to the bottom of it sooner or later, he was afraid she was going to stay that way.

Not to say that he didn't know exactly what the source of the problem was, he thought, sipping some coffee from his mug. Didn't take a genius to figure out what – or rather _who_ – had altered her. But Alex hadn't said a word about Blake, or their fight, or whether they'd resolved it. That was what was odd – her silence on the matter. Alex was particularly good at concealing her feelings from most people, but William prided himself on being able to read her better than anyone. She was hurt and trying very hard to push past her feelings and concentrate on something, anything, else. It wasn't as if William could speak to Blake about it. He hadn't come round. He hadn't dropped her off. He hadn't been near the house in weeks, in person or in word. She never mentioned him unless he was brought up in conversation. She was avoiding the subject of Blake Collins vehemently.

Putting his mug down and glancing at the clock again, William made a noise at the back of his throat and paced out of the kitchen. He was determined to wheedle it out of her today, whether she wanted to talk about it or not. She couldn't go on acting as if she hadn't lost a good friend.

William knocked gently on his daughter's bedroom door, and heard the quiet 'come in'. He stepped in to find her lying on her stomach on her double bed with a textbook propped up on the pillow in front of her and a notebook with a few paragraphs scrawled on. Her room was tidy, but her purple curtains were slightly askew as if they'd been thrown open rather than tied back with the cord that was there.

"Hey, Bug," he said sitting on the end of her bed. She glanced back at him and spun around so she was sat crossed legged and staring at him with a smile. William took in her sweater and jeans and noting that she wasn't crying, and she wasn't still in her pyjamas, but something still seemed a little dark about her. He searched her face; she looked a little tired perhaps but asides from that, there was nothing on the outside to indicate there was anything wrong. "Doing homework?"

"Trying, but its not going very well. I think I need lunch," she smiled, closing her text books and arranging them into a pile.

"I was just coming to see if you wanted a sandwich or something."

She nodded. "Don't worry – I'll make it. You've probably got work to do."

He smiled at his daughter and ruffled her hair. "You like to take of me, don't you?"

"Someone has to," she snorted, tugging his shirt and pointing at the missing button – it had fallen off a few days ago. "You'd never survive without me."

"I'd be fine," he assured her indignantly. "I forage pretty well, and I can open a can now can't I?"

Alex laughed and bowed her head. "After years of careful training, I will give you the title of being the only person I know who can create an entire meal, with all the necessary food groups, completely out of tinned food products."

William lifted his chin proudly. "What can I say? I'm a genius."

Alex quirked an eyebrow at him and shuffled towards the edge to get up. "You're something, Dad," she muttered. "I wouldn't have said genius though."

She went to rise, laughing to herself but William touched her shoulder and gently forced her to sit. "Just hold up a sec," he said quietly, in what he hoped was a soothing voice. Alex frowned at him but sat down all the same. She looked concerned, curious, anxious and irritated in one foul swoop. "I just want to talk to you for a moment."

"Is something wrong?" she asked, her concerning filtering into her voice too. "Are you ok?"

"What? No, I'm fine," he laughed. "I wanted to talk about you."

"Me?" She sounded incredulous. "I'm fine."

"You've been quiet these past few weeks."

She shrugged and glanced at her poster of an Anaheim prima in the retire position and arms in fourth. "Have I? I didn't think you'd be complaining," she joked.

"Well, I am. You've been quiet and focused – too focused, even for you."

"I just have a lot on at school at the moment," she replied. "Director Franklin wants some of us sophomores and the seniors to be in the Christmas fundraiser and I've got some midterms too. I'm just trying to stay on top of it all."

"You need a healthy balance. You've not been out much lately," he pointed out, leading up to Blake slowly. She'd folded her arms as if she knew what was coming.

"I just told you – busy."

"And no Blake in a while either," William probed. She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "It is Saturday."

"How astute you are, father."

"Funny," he sighed. "Aren't you guys going to do something? I know there's no baseball on at the moment, but he's welcome here."

"Is he?"

"_Isn't_ he?" William asked with some confusion. "I thought you were talking again. Did you two have another fight?" William asked, scratching his head.

"Kind of...not really..." Alex sighed. "Why? What does it matter?"

"I just figured you guys might have made up by now."

"Well, we did," Alex scoffed, running her fingers through her fringe. "I just think it's better if we have a more professional relationship. There's been a lot of focus on us rather than on the dancing, and that's why we started working together in the first place." She finished her speech with a smile that neither she nor her father bought.

"Is that a bad thing?" William asked with a frown.

"Yes! Dance has to come first!" Alex cried indignantly. "Not Blake Collins. You know that," she added sulkily.

"Ok, ok," her father said, raising his hands and laughing nervously. "And what does Blake think about that?"

Alex eyed him. "You're starting to irritate me now with your questions."

Her father raised his eyebrows. Alex huffed.

"He agrees," she muttered bitterly.

"Bug..."

"Look – he's a Collins. And dance comes before everything else, and if I'm gonna be his partner, I have to start thinking the same way. According to his mother anyway," she added.

"Yeah, and look at what being a Collins has done to Blake – he's incredibly intense and if he's honest with himself, kind of miserable a lot of the time," reasoned William. "He's made sacrifices to be where he is – regardless of whether he loves dancing or not – and I will not see my daughter do the same thing, simply to satisfy Mrs. Collins. Whoever she is," he said with a frown.

"I'm not...it's not her...it's..." Alex sighed. "She's right – we got caught up in everything and our partnership became something it shouldn't have been. We should be more focused."

William's brow furrowed. "You're buying into that garbage?"

"You're supposed to support me!" Alex snapped.

"Yeah, and I'm also supposed to take care of you and to stop you from making stupid decisions based on the opinion of a woman whose known you five minutes as opposed to your father who's known you all your life!" Alex bowed her head – William hardly ever raised his voice to her, and his words were always disarming when he shouted.

"I take it we're talking about the fact that you and Blake might have felt a little more for each other than friendship, and his mother was less than enthused about that?" said William inquisitively, still fuming.

Alex paused, as if weighing up whether to say anything or not. "Something like that."

"So I'll ask you again – how does Blake feel about this 'working relationship'? Is he happy about giving up the things he wants for dance just because his mother says so?"

"He's not happy about it! Fine! Ok - it's not him - it's me!" She threw herself back into her bed with another heavy sigh. "We made up, and he wants things to go back to the way they were, and I...I don't know what I'm supposed to do! This is stupid - all this drama...we were just supposed to be partners!"

"Yeah, Bug, you keep saying that," William said softly, running his hand over his face. "But I think you've gone beyond that and you know that."

Alex closed her eyes.

"Am I right?" William asked carefully. "Do you like him?" His daughter didn't move until a few moments later when she took a deep breath.

"Of course not," she said curtly. "He's Blake Collins. I'm Alexandra Hale. Everybody knows we fight like cat and dog. It's never going to work out," she said matter of factly.

"That's not what I asked," William said screwing up his face. "Give me a straight answer Bug – and cut all this 'his Mom thinks that we should be professional' BS because it's irrelevant – do you or do you not...want to make out with Blake Collins?" He blinked, keeping his face very serious and looked at her intently as he waited for her answer.

Alex sat up on her elbows and stared at him. "You're unbelievable."

"I'm sorry," he smiled. "I was hoping to get a smile out of you." She didn't give him one but she didn't look as cross. "Bug," he continued carefully, "I know I don't always get it right and sometimes I'm a pretty lousy Dad." He raised a hand at her objections. "I know you'll never agree but I can't give you everything you need, or get you a new car, or even cook you a meal that you can eat without being concerned for your life." A smile tugged at the corner of his daughter's mouth which he counted as a small victory. "But I know I'd be a terrible parent if I didn't tell you that the most important things in life aren't the things you can get your hands on – it's about memories and people and feelings. And I don't want you to look back when you my age and feel nothing but regret because all you ever did was follow your feet instead of your heart."

Alex sat forward and kept her head bowed as she listened.

"Now, I can joke about it, I know, but if you genuinely like Blake and he likes you too...screw what everyone else says. Don't begrudge yourself a good friendship with someone who makes you happy. Your way isn't making you happy is it? So why don't you try your old dad's way? Besides, I miss the male company around here," he added wryly.

"It's not about that anymore," she whispered.

"You frightened?" he asked.

"No," she said indignantly, frowning at him. "Why would I be?"

Her father shrugged. "Sometimes caring for someone makes you vulnerable and that's a scary feeling."

"Well, there's no danger of that Dad, because it's not going to happen. If Blake really gave a damn about me, he would have done something about it sooner. Not to mention he's really treated me like crap over the last few weeks."

"Maybe he's frightened too."

Alex opened her mouth and stared at him. "I am not frightened," she said clearly. Sighing and rubbing her temples, she swung her legs off the edge of the bed. "I'm going to make a sandwich. You still want one?" she asked as she approached the door. William stared after his daughter and nodded.

"Just...promise me something, Bug," he said quietly. "Just...promise me that you're not cutting your nose off to spite your face. Because despite his mistakes, he's a good kid, and it might be his feelings too..."

"Ham salad?" Alex interrupted. William sighed, staring at her defiant face. She _was_ afraid; for all her bravery and soldiering on, she was a little girl still. But she didn't want to talk about it anymore, and if he pushed it any further he risked causing a fight between _them_. He didn't want that.

"Yeah, sure," he said wearily, rising as well and following her out. "Ham salad."

XXXXX

She'd underestimated how much she'd been leaning on Blake.

Not just in terms of practicality (though walking everyday when she'd been getting lifts with him was starting to kill her – she'd be glad when she had enough saved for a new car) but Alex no longer had someone to joke with about the things she hadn't told anyone. She didn't talk to Jayne about baseball, and she couldn't talk to Kitty about dance. Blake had fallen comfortably in the middle, and truth be told, her dad was right. She had begrudged herself a good friend, and she was miserable.

The worst part was that even though the feelings had been there before, now she was determined _not_ to feel anything for him but indifference, they seemed to have heightened. From the moment she walked into the studio, a dull ache nestled in her stomach and remained there until she was free again. Alex had hoped that with the lack of emotional involvement, her feelings for him might have vanished, but they seemed to be lingering stubbornly. Dancing made it worse of course; with the lifts and closeness and the feelings behind it, she was as in danger of falling in love with him by the end of it as he had been when they'd been spending time together. In rehearsal, they talked of course, but it was empty and phatic, with both of them encouraging or criticising the other only on their steps and nothing else.

If she thought it was any easier for her partner, she was wrong. He was glad she had finally agreed to be his partner again, but at what cost? The fighting had been unbearable but this was almost worse – being within reach of her, and feeling as if she was miles away from him. He couldn't talk to her as they once had. He couldn't ask if she was ok. He'd tried a few times only to be met with gentle reminders that it wasn't his place to ask anymore. Alex had turned up late to a rehearsal looking weary and tearful, but a glower from her stopped Blake's curious ache and made him ask her to hurry up.

It was a Tuesday, leading up to Christmas, and despite the school's heating system backing up and blowing out cold air all day, the pair were still in the studio – though Alex had donned a thick sweater and leg warmers. She leant forward on her front leg, bending her pointe shoes a little as she watched Blake doing a short routine; her hands behind her back, following his form avidly as he turned and fell and span. When he finally finished, she smiled weakly and tucked some loose strands behind her ears. He'd finished with his arms in fourth and promptly dropped them to his sides.

"It was good," she said. He raised an eyebrow.

"Good?"

"It was fine."

"_What_? Good, fine..." probed Blake. "Be a little clearer."

"Good, but not great," she said with a shrug. "I don't know how I can be any clearer Blake."

He sighed "What am I doing wrong then, if it's _not great_? Surely you must have some criticism to back up your point," he said with a smirk.

"Get back into fourth," she commanded waving her hands. He stood for a moment indignantly before begrudgingly lifting his arms into fourth position but keeping his legs in first.

"Yup, there it is. You do it sometimes," she said with a frown, looking at his fingers.

Blake dropped his arms again. "What?" he urged. "If you're going to pass judgment on me, just get on with it."

Alex smirked. "You _really_ don't take criticism well sometimes."

He stared at her with such abhor she thought he might like to hit her.

"Get back into fourth!" she said. He did so, clenching his jaw. Alex stepped forward into the space in front of him and began playing with his fingers. "I guess it's because you're a guy, but the fingers are an extension of your arm so they need to be a clear line – come on, work with me," she said trying to bend his fingers.

"I know that," he said through his teeth, staring hard at her face as she moved him like some kind of puppet. He had dropped his arms down. "I didn't just start dancing you know."

She yanked his arms back up. "Well then, why are your hands so stiff?" she asked.

"I don't know," retorted Blake, with a snide tone. "Probably for the same reason you keep sickling," he muttered to himself, but her eyes snapped to his in a cool stare.

"I do not sickle."

"And I don't have a problem with my extension," he countered.

"At the moment you do," she murmured, close to his face. They stood for a moment, stubborn and unmoving, glowering at each other before Blake rolled his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh.

"Fine," he muttered again. "Although I think it might have something to do with the fact that it's freezing in here and my hands are seizing up."

"Excuses, excuses," Alex said quietly, with a faint smile. "Come on Blake, graceful fingers," she sighed, squaring up to him and adjusting his wrist so she was en pointe to reach his height. "You're either doing it to annoy me or you're just being la-"

She didn't finish her sentence because Blake had leaned forward from where he stood, and kissed her on the mouth, bringing his arm from the side and laying it on her waist. His initial thought had been to shut her up, but logic would have told him that there were other ways to stop someone from talking and kissing them was not usually the way to do it.

But she'd been so close, and in the December light coming in from the window, she'd looked so beautiful. It was the one time he had lost control, and he wasn't sorry at all, because Alex had kissed him back.

Her hands had fallen to his shoulders from where they had been positioning his hands and as he pulled his head back, she used them to push her own body away a little. Not far enough away though, he noted, feeling the warmth of her body against his.

"Sorry," Blake said, clearing his throat, his voice a little thick. "You were saying?"

"I...honestly don't remember," Alex stammered, looking anywhere but his face and letting go of his shoulders like they were hot. He unwrapped his arm from her waist and placed it on his hips. They were completely apart now, but still in each other's space. Alex's cheeks had flushed deeply and she raised a hand to her brow.

"You...were calling me lazy?" he offered in low voice.

"Oh, yes," she said quietly. "Lazy."

Blake would have smirked at her loss for words had he not been stunned himself at what he had done.

"I need a drink," she said suddenly, but not moving. Blake stared at her with a frown; he couldn't tell whether she was unhappy or not, but she certainly looked embarrassed with her flushed cheeks and the way her eyes wouldn't focus on one point for long.

She suddenly turned, seemingly unsure as to which way to go, but decided to walk straight past him to the door. Blake, unable to stop himself, grabbed her arm - not tightly - but enough to halt her in her tracks.

"Just...wait a second," he said softly.

"Ok," she replied slowly, and he stole a look at her. She seemed to be smiling and frowning at the same time; a great array of contrasting emotions clearly visible on her face. He wondered if he looked pretty much the same.

"No," he said, letting go of her. "Sorry, you said you needed a drink."

"Were you going to say something?" she asked, a little eagerly he noticed.

"No."

"Oh, ok." Alex turned her back on him slowly, brushing her fringe from her face and headed for the door again. His heart was pounding inside his ribs so hard he was sure she could hear it, and it showed no sign of stopping.

"Actually," Blake called out, running his hands through his hair. When he did speak, it came out very quickly. "Can I take you out to dinner? Saturday...Or tonight maybe?" He swallowed hard.

"Dinner?" she asked, repeating the word slowly.

"Yeah..." He cringed at himself. "Dinner."

"Sure," Alex said, again too quickly. "Saturday?"

"Saturday," he breathed with a smile. "Ok."

Alex nodded. "I'm going to get that..."

"Drink, right," Blake said finishing her sentence and nodding. "Go."

He stared after her as she did, holding his breath until she was out the door and then exhaling deeply when he was sure she couldn't hear him.

He had kissed her.

And now they were going on a date.


End file.
